


Portalborn

by Experiment282



Series: Realmverse [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Portal
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Realmverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 95,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experiment282/pseuds/Experiment282
Summary: In the land of Skyrim, the Dragonborn is a hot-blooded thrill seeker. An encounter with a weird man and a talking meteorite ball thing that rambles about space sets her off on something weird indeed...





	1. Towers and Meteorites

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Portal 2 Mod for Skyrim.

**Portalborn**

Chapter 1: Towers and Meteorites

* * *

The land of Skyrim; Filled with snow, mountains, trees, dragons and a tough populace. The land was shaped by war and bent by conflict all around it. The people were a proud, brave lot that made the harsh soils work for them. For they thrived on challenges; the strongest warriors were revered in song, whether it was in battle with each other, trolls or dragons. Any of the local Nords could tell you a thousand stories about their adventure filled lives, armed with their awesome weapons to the brink of bringing blood to their own honor.

Within their realm held their own areas of dedication, whether you were a Warrior, a thief or a mage...they were sworn to defend their homeland from ever-oncoming threats. Skyrim itself was born out of an infamous era with Dragons ruling it, but eventually, with determination and skill, they were driven out for hundreds of years, for then they put up with events around them, with the Fourth, and current era, eventually focusing on what little beauty was left, with many other Provinces heading into disarray after the Oblivion Crisis.

Skyrim was not without its own problems. The Civil War between the Imperials and the Stormcloaks had torn the Province apart. Far worse was the Return of the Dragons. According to lore, Dragons hadn't been seen for many years, until recently, which lead to rumors of possible resurrections at hand, leaving supernatural forces at play. Investigations were underway, with progress being made at the revelation that a chosen one had been found...the Dragonborn.

The Dragonborn was someone who had the blood and soul of a Dragon, but the body of a mortal. Bearing a gift from the Gods above, they had the ability to use Dragon Shouts and speak as they do as well being the only mortals to permanently kill a dragon by absorbing their power and soul. Everyone but the Dragonborn themselves knew this, as they had found out from the old men on the Throat of the World, known as the Greybeards, those dedicated to honing and developing "The Way of the Voice. as well as the many myths and legends passed down from ancestor to ancestor.

The current Dragonborn of this era, a former convict caught crossing the border at the wrong time, was about to be executed until a dragon attacked the Village of Helgen, inadvertently saving their life and leaving them to roam the land of Skyrim, fate leaving them to wander and do as they wish.

So far, the Dragonborn had joined up with the Companions in Whiterun and had gone on wild and twisted adventures that had gotten attention of a few members and had been invited to join in on their special group, the Circle, and within due time, became a Werewolf. However, within those celebrator bounds, horror had struck which tragically shortened a few crucial members lives and within a few weeks, found themselves as the Harbinger; the closest thing the Companions had to a leader. Each Companion would bring honour to themselves and everyone within, but the Harbinger was the one with the wisdom to aid their Shield-Brother or sister in times of crisis, or just gave general advice. This life was good with the Dragonborn, helping the people of Skyrim with their dilemmas and wearing such honour, with pride.

At moment, the Dragonborn lay within the safety of their house in Whiterun. They were a female Nord with brown hair and green-gray eyes, pale white skin, her steel armor forged from the Skyforge, bearing a Skyforge Steel sword. She dabbled in some magic, necessary in part and had learned a few shouts. Her face was dirty...but she had a quiet place, a secluded part of the nearest river, where, occasionally she'll wash herself down. Otherwise, it was normal, her hair tatty, but who's wasn't nowadays? No one really gave two thoughts about it. She ran her fingers through hers after sitting back down. She'd cooked herself some steak and gulped it down in no time, resting the bowl back on the table, then rubbed her eyes and accidentally burped.

"Something the matter my Thane?" Asked Lydia, her housecarl, bemused by her releasing gas.

"I'm heading to Riften tomorrow. I've got an errand to run." The Dragonborn replied.

Lydia nodded. "Of course my Thane. What would you like me to do?"

Lydia was an honest, noble woman and loyal as they come. She had the determination as the Dragonborns Housecarl to defend her and all that she owned. Standing up straighter than a floorboard, there was no fear in her eyes. But occasionally she had some wit. The Dragonborn noticed she didn't like to carry much, considerably the Dragonbones and Scales that the Dragonborn seemed to collect after smiting a problematic dragon that would arise. All Lydia could say that she was sworn to carry the Dragonborns burdens, but had a sarcastic writ to it.

"If one of the Companions need me, just send a Courier." Said the Dragonborn.

Lydia nodded. "Of course My Thane."

She went upstairs and headed to her bedroom. She took off her armour and placed it next to her bed. For the Dragonborn, sleep was never easy, due to having beast blood. She laid down on the bed and stared at the roof, which had a few missing boards up top, revealing a partial view of the night sky. She blew her candle and tried to rest. Laying on her back, she allowed her eyelids to fall, eventually succumbing to sleep.

A dream came to her being. Funnily enough, it'd been the first dream she'd had in a long while since drinking Aelas blood during her initiation into the Circle. Well, maybe second dream. She'd long had fantasy's of Farkas, which made her chuckle at some point. The Dragonborn never knew how to approach the subject. But...as a Nord, she wouldn't let men rule her life. It would be a sub quest for her. But for now, her trip to Riften was just an errand. Nothing more.

The Dream floated in through clouds, then suddenly on top of a mountain. It then flashed to a glorious battle with the Draugr, over some magical artifact that she was desperate to find. The Dragonborn had no idea what it was they were fighting over. It was odd indeed. However, the view changed from a lower perspective, where one of the Draugr twisted over, it's cold, glowing eyes glared and stabbed her in the chest. The response made her shoot up from her bed, gasping for air. A hand rested on her chest as her heart beated quickly. Her blood was on fire by this point. Looked like she needed some...air.

The Dragonborn got out of bed and put some of her blue apprentice mages clothes on that she got out of her bed chest. This was normally when she wanted to run around let off some steam as well as being a bit stealthy without the clanking weapons and armour that she normally carried. She tiptoed out, trying to be quiet while Lydia was asleep. The floorboards creaked, with the Dragonborn wincing, honing in to see if it had woke her housecarl up. A few moments later, nothing was heard, giving a sense of relief to the Dragonborn. One of her magical spells that she'd learned was Muffle, courtesy of the Jarls' Court Mage. She'd learned to ensure her sneakiness was well insured. She'd cast it, and made her way outside.

The sky was indeed still clear, but it was very dark, save for some guards walking around with their torches. She snuck around near but not to near the city walls, hiding when a guard went passed. It wasn't that she was afraid of the guards themselves, but she feared that they would notice one of the Thanes was sneaking about. For her task wasn't noble, but mainly a stress-reliever. But no one took kindly to those who possessed the beast blood, often attacking on sight. The Dragonborn was heading to Jorrvaskr, the mead hall of the Companions. Or better yet, she was heading to the Underforge, a secret place where members of the Circle would meet. She managed to sneak around behind, eventually reaching the hidden passage which was encased on the edge of a cliff and pressed a button, lowering a part of part of the wall.

Once inside, she waited until the wall rose up again. It wasn't...spacious. Mainly rocky with with a stone bowl in the middle. Someone else was in here as they stood up from one of the Shrines, which there were three with individual totem-like objects. She wore cloth armour with some shoulder pads, which was...kind of revealing in some standards. Her hair was brownish red, shoulder length and had three diagonal strokes of black war paint on her face.

"Do you have wisdom for me Harbinger?" The woman asked, her voice strong and assured.

"Uh, well let's see..." The Dragonborn answered, thumbing her lip. "How about the best kind of prize is a surprise?"

Aela smirked and crossed her arms. "If that was your attempt at a joke, that was pretty bad."

The Dragonborn chuckled. "Well, you could always use it against your foes."

Aela rose an eyebrow. "Giving them the gift of stabbing them in the back? I'd rather give them the chance to retaliate."

Aela was born with combat in her blood, coming from a line of Companion built women. She lived for the hunt and the battle as any Nord would be. She fully supported the notion of the Beast Blood, seeing as a gift. In fact, she was eager enough to allow the Dragonborn to drink hers, welcoming a new member into the fold and for someone to share the hunt together. They'd battled the Silver-Hand, those completely opposed to Lycanthropy, evidenced by the caging, slaughtering and skinning of werewolves in their little forts that they had across Skyrim. In the end, their lust for battle cost them important lives on both sides.

"So what brings you here tonight?" Aela wondered.

The Dragonborn sighed. "Just popping out for a run. You know that sort of thing..."

Aela smiled. "Ah good. Well if you want something to do, I've gotten word there's a group of bandits that have made their home in the abandoned Western Watchtower."

The Dragonborn gave a soft smile. "Really? Out in the open like that? They do know that tower is practically useless now..."

Aela shrugged. "Doesn't matter to them. The Bounty for them should be released any day now. But I think you should be able to deal with them beforehand."

The Dragonborn raised an eyebrow. "You don't want any Septims?" She asked.

Aela shook her head. "It's not about the gold...it's about the challenge. They're too easy a target. I prefer a locked down place that's good and tight...but easy to infiltrate once you're on to it. Go on...get your hunt on. Might do you some good."

The Dragonborn nodded, smirking. "Alright then if that's your decision...geez with all this maybe you should be Harbinger..."

Aela chuckled. "I don't think so. We've all taken to heart that the choices that Kodlak had made were the right ones."

The Dragonborn smiled. "Even the Harbinger needs help every so often. Asks the other Companions for their opinions."

Aela sat back down on her knees and raised her arms before one of the Totems. "That is true Harbinger. Now go..."

And with that, The Dragonborn slipped out of her mage clothes and willingly transformed into a Werewolf...a brutal process, with fur growing out of her skin, the extension of her face, growing into a long snout, eventually snarling when the event had finished, lengthening her claws and staring at each paw that had grown. She felt alive. With that feeling in mind, she crawled out of the cave and came out of other side of the protective wall, facing out in the open lands of Skyrim. It indeed was a beautiful night for a stroll...or a run. She charged forward, stretching her gangly wolfy arms and legs, digging her claws into the earthen terrain. There was something about running around at night that was so peaceful and calming, despite being in a Wolven form. She did well to remember the Circles mantra for Werewolves. "Eyes on the Prey, not on the Horizon." Were the words that she had brazened in her mind, thanks to Farkas. Rabbits fled when she ran past, foxes running away in their cowardice. Nothing out of the norm.

Whiterun Hold was for the most part, held the flattest of plains of Skyrim and yet it boasted the tallest mountain known as the Throat of the World, bearing the Greybeards home, High Hrothgar. The Dragonborn had climbed the seven thousand steps to the top, battling a few Frost Trolls along the way. But for now, she was on her way to her little spot by the White River. Nice and secluded.

Her superior eyesight and smell detecting some travelers along the road that was coming into view. From her scent, it was the Thalmor with a supposed. 'Heretic.' Damned Elves. She growled as she crawled above a cliff edge. She had been breathing heavily, as drool slipped out of her mouth from utter rage. Everyone detested the Thalmor, so what harm was there into maiming a few?

The Thalmor were part of the Aldmeri Dominion, a group of Elves that had fought the Imperials in the Great War some decades ago. Peace came when the Imperials signed the White-Gold Concordat, outlawing the worship of Talos, the God of Mankind. The Nords, being a proud people hated this, and this was in part reason why the Stormcloaks had been fighting in the Civil War. The Dragonborn was a Nord, so she too, felt the urge to push and fight, but she had her morals to deal with. She was not an Imperial or a Stormcloak for that matter so it was not her business when both had their good and bad points.

But...all could agree on the snideness that was the Thalmor, who were ultimately detestable. They believed their superiority over man and when the chance arose they would prove their narcissism. If they had their way, they would take over Skyrim in a heartbeat.

For now, the Dragonborn waited until the group of Thalmor had passed, sniffing and checking which direction the wind was coming from, then jumped over onto the stony pathway and slowly tailed them until the Dragonborn decided when there would be the perfect time to attack. Given in time, they came across a lowly hillside. The Dragonborn bore her teeth into a wolfish grin as she crawled up the hillside quickly and silently. She could see their prisoner was a lowly fair haired Nord with a rugged face, holding his hands in front of him, obviously chained. She lowered her head and sniffed again. A mighty growl was sounded as she jumped into battle.

The battle was short and sweet...well, at least their Elven corpses were. The Nord had run off in one direction in fear, but mainly because the Dragonborn had given off an intimidating roar. It was better for him to flee alive than to try to attack her. It was common though. Despite the assistance into freeing or helping people, the fact was that you were a Werewolf and therefore to be feared and hunted down. She fed on the last Elf, and roared into the sky before heading down towards the White River.

She hadn't fed like that in a while. Merflesh was tastier than manflesh. Possibly that inspid magical blood that they have. Didn't matter though, her hunger was satiated for now. The wind was nice, blowing through her fur. Cool breezes don't cut through to the bone for Nords, owing to their fantastic resistance to the cold air. But being a Werewolf helped a lot, for all it's hardships.

The Dragonborn fled to a side cliff, overlooking the depths of the White River. This was her private spot, where she would wash herself. Making the way down, the river gushed across peacefully, the rockyness of the riverside digging into her forepaws. She changed back into her normal form and placed her mage clothes aside, taking off her underwear as well. Magical stuff that was, underwear...

The feeling of washing oneself was to die for, ridding the filth of weeks gone by...this was an experience only nobles seem to experience. But, at the same time, the Dragonborn was an adventurer, she didn't seem to care for the nobility part, only for the perks that being a Thane provided. The Dragonborn was a friendly face in Whiterun, conversing with the local populace, heading to the Local Inn for a drink.

Amongst washing her hair with some ingredients and a potion she'd made, she could feel something around her legs. She looked down, seeing a mudcrab about to snip her. The Dragonborn sneered at it, picking it up from the ground. Ugly looking thing. She garnered an evil grin as she through it at the riverside. From both her hands she formed fireballs, firing it at the Mudcrab and incinerated it. Licking her lips, the Dragonborn stepped out of the river and got dressed into her robes, and devoured the cooked crab. MM...it was tasty, despite eating Elves a hour before. After finishing, she cleaned up a bit more, before heading to the Tower

She remembered the first time she'd been to that tower. She'd killed a Dragon and absorbed it's power and soul, discovering her potential to be a Dragonborn. Returning back wasn't much of a fuss. It was just a normal tower with some rubble around it. Whether it was old it didn't matter. No one really claimed it much anymore. And at best, if there was any bandits, there might be most likely two or three. Why they had stationed themselves there was anyones guess. It left them completely exposed to Trolls, Giants and worse, Dragons.

She snuck around, avoiding the pathway on the way to the tower. As she got closer, she could see two bandits keeping guard. That would be right. She cast her Muffle spell again, ensuring that her sneaking was up high. She left her weapons at home, but kept a small, enchanted dagger around just in case. They rabbled on as they did, chatting away with a single torch lighting the area. The Dragonborn crept closer and closer. However, she stepped on a twig, making a loud snapping sound. Lifting her head, she could see the bandits had lifted their heads, whispering to each other. The Dragonborn quickly fled, keeping low and rolled to avoid being seen. She hid behind the tower itself.

"LAAS!" she whispered. It was an odd whisper indeed...for it was a Shout, words of a Dragon. She had used the Aura Whisper ability, in order to see where the Bandits were. For the brief ten seconds, she could see someone sitting down inside the tower, someone on top of the tower, and the other two bandits looking around. She kept in her crouched position, keeping an ear and eye out for them. She heard footsteps walking around. This was quite the thrill, avoiding them. Normally, during the day, she would be wearing her heavy armor gear, but..in the night she was something different...

"Probably one of those damned Foxes...tricky things." Said one of the bandits.

The Dragonborn became a bit more relaxed as she possessed a grin. They were a stupid lot.

She slithered around the side of the tower, hiding behind a bush, waiting for one of the bandits to sit down. Fiddling with her dagger, she became rather eager to finish this already. A thought came through to her head, thinking this reminded her of something the Dark Brotherhood would do. She would know, having a few Assassins following her trail. She had trouble of disposing of them however. No one tries to kill the Dragonborn and lives to tell the tale.

As one became relaxed, she came up from behind, covering his mouth with one hand and stabbing him in the back with the other. The dagger was pushed it forward, as she tried to commit to give him a quick death. As soon as he was limp, she dragged his body away and hid it in the bush. The other bandit came around the corner and bore a puzzled look on his face. The Dragonborn shuffled to the side, still hiding in the darkness. The other bandit murmured something, distracted...just what she wanted. She snuck behind him, slitting his throat and tossing his body to the side. Next, was going inside the tower itself.

She retouched her Muffle spell and cleaned her dagger before heading inside. All she saw was a foolish back turned to her. Creeping forward, a devilish smile overcame her as she slashed his throat, letting his body lie on the floor. She stared at it for a moment, taking a look at the book he was reading. Nothing interested or what she didn't have in her bookshelf. She let it down. Upon recollection, there was someone else here, on top of the tower. She lowered herself to a near squat and silently climbed the steps to the top.

Another bandit was sitting down, pondering at the sky, mumbling to himself. He appeared different to the other bandits, His hair, black and scruffy and possessing a beard upon which the likes she'd never seen. She tilted her head as he was reading a book, and watching the sky. He was another bandit, she kept telling herself. However, he was the only one there, and he couldn't just simply jump off the tower to save himself. She wanted him to go out True Nord style, leaving him to go onto...a noble death.

"Ahem..." The Dragonborn motioned, expressing her presence.

The bandit jumped and fell off the chair.

"Bah! How many times did I have to...tell you.." Said the bandit, turning around. His voice was of a different accent comparing to the one the Dragonborn was used to. He was wearing a white coat, his eyes...were of different colours, one darker than the other. Although that wasn't uncommon in Skyrim itself. He looked at the Dragonborn..up and down.

"woah Woah WOAH!" He yelled, fumbling back and raising his hands in a passive motions.

"Who are you?"

The Dragonborn went to a battle position. She had a fire spell ready as well as her Dagger.

"I am the Harbinger of the Companions! Here to bring honor by ridding this Watch Tower of bandits so that Skyrim and her people can be safe from you wretched filth!" She boasted.

The bandit shook his head. "Hey, let's talk about this alright? Please? Can we ju-"

The Dragonborn glared at him. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you..."

The bandit sighed with relief. "Okay, okay...you may THINK I'm someone aiming to kill and steal...but I've been kidnapped!"

The Dragonborn looked skeptical. "Kidnapped?"

The man nodded frantically. "Yes yes! You see? I came into this strange land, had no idea what was going on! But then I got kidnapped by these...people! Then they sold my friend off to some...wizard dude and walked away and..."

She could see he was stressed and genuinely in trouble. She had to know a few things first.

"Let's say I believe you. Okay? Give me your name Milk Drinker."

The man nodded and rubbed his neck. "My name is Doug. Doug Rattman. I'm not from here, where ever here is."

The Dragonborn crossed her arms. "This is Skyrim. Surely your captors would have told you that by now."

Doug bit his lip. "Well...uh...I come from some place far away then! I think I had an incident with the Portal gun then-"

The Dragonborn raised her palm at him. "Okay I get the picture. You're not from Skyrim...you were kidnapped and they sold your friend to a Wizard..."

He fell to his knees and put his hands into a praying position. He was practically begging her.

"Yes yes! Now please! You seem like a reasonable person! I need to find my friend! Would you know where this Wizard would take him?"

She thumbed her lip. "Hmmm...sorry no...he might be another bandit. And there are hundreds of places where Bandits would hide...and I doubt it would possible to look for them all." She said with disappointment.

He ran his hand through his hair. He was shaking and whimpering. Honestly, she was surprised he was still alive at this point.

"But! I heard them say something...called...uh...damn what was it...Wintergold?"

The Dragonborn lifted her head. "Winterhold?"

Doug nodded and smiled. "Yes that was it!"

Winterhold. A city holding on to a tight edge on the side of a mountain, after majority of the building fell into the sea after the great collapse. Many suspected the cause was from the College of Winterhold, an infamous school where Mages go to study their magic freely, but aren't without their ire, since it was left completely unharmed. Since then, most Skyrim magic users are teased and taunted, but many of their skills are needed throughout the Province. The Dragonborn was a student, needed some basic and some slightly advanced skills in order for progress to be sounded in some areas. Plus she had some well needed contacts within in case anything came up.

"That's up North East of here..." She said. "Stay close to the roads. It's dangerous out there."

Doug pulled on her leg, but she stepped back in surprise, pulling her dagger out.

"Can't you come with me?" He pleaded. "You look like a strong girl! In fact! You remind me of someone I know!"

The Dragonborn chuckled nervously. "You can hire a Carriage up at Whiterun Stables. They'll take you to any of the main cities for a reasonable price." She said, shuffling back a bit more as Doug begged.

He eventually stood up, back cracking. "Ugh...man...anyway." He groaned. "I'm afraid I don't have any cash on me."

He demonstrated his proof when he pulled out his pockets. He wore a white shirt and brown pants...and his shoes...looked weird...black near shining looking things. The Dragonborn picked up his book and handed it to him. She informed him to stand here while she went downstairs. He picked at her notion. He was just so damned confused! There was so much here that he couldn't even compare to the life he had behind. In fact, it was just the opposite. Wow...was this what life was outside the Science Centre?

She came back not too long after. "Hold out your hand." She ordered. He held out his hand to her. Doug jumped as she gripped on to his wrist a little too tightly and forced something smooth and cold into the palm of his hand.

"Here is Fifty Gold." She explained, staring sternly into his eyes. "I can take you to the Stables for now."

He nodded frantically. "Thank you so much m'am! You have no idea how much this means to me!"

The Dragonborn gave off an awkward smile, then her expression to one of seriousness. "Come on, get into gear. We're leaving!"

The Stables wasn't too far from the Watchtower. In fact, Doug knew this place as Whiterun, judging from what the Bandits had mentioned. From where he was stationed, he could see a lot. The plains, the mountains. Occasionally they spoke of High Hrothgar and the Greybeards. He was really out of it, like his world had reset entirely. There weren't enough memories to sort through. Although, being beaten up by bandits may have had something to do with it.

They made it up to the Stables as The Dragonborn approached the Driver. He was asleep, forcing the Dragonborn to roll her eyes.

"Hey! Wake up!" She said, clicking her fingers in his face.

Doug tugged at his coat sleeve. "You know we could have waited until morning..." He croaked.

The Driver lifted his head, looking around in his daze. "Uhhh what?" He groaned. Then he saw her.

"Oh...it's you...uh...where do you want to go?"

She smirked, flinging her hands to her hips. "This man needs go to Winterhold. Immediately."

The Driver yawned. "Graaaaaah...okay, That will be Fifty Septims."

Doug scratched his head. "Ehhh waaha?"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Give him the Gold. The faster you do so, the faster you'll get there."

Doug blinked in realization. "Oh! Right! Here mate!" He said, handing the gold over.

The Driver yawned once more. "Just hop in back and we'll be off." He said in his tired tone.

Doug nodded and faced the Dragonborn. She seemed stern, brave and rather pushy. This combined with her looks reminded him so much of...her...the woman he'd tried to save but failed to. He had no idea how to get back. But...his friend was in danger. And Winterhold was the only lead that was given. This...woman, he could depend on her. She could help him out. He gave her a warm smile.

"Um...thanks for this! Can I ask you a question though?" He asked.

The Dragonborn groaned. "Yeah what is it?"

He rubbed his beard. Doug tended to keep doing that as he thought.

"Can I have a name? I mean, so...um...if I have to look for you."

The Dragonborn gave a brief smirk. She had many names and titles. "I'm the Harbinger of the Companions, like I mentioned to you before. If you need anything, send me a letter. Trust me, you can always depend on the efficient ways of Couriers."

Doug nodded. "Right...Harbinger...very well then. Thank you again! Uh, Harbinger."

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Just don't get yourself killed...now go..the Driver is waiting."

Doug smiled and forcibly took the Dragonborns hand and shook it. "Thank you thank you THANK YOU! I owe you big time! I will pay you back that money I swear!"

The Dragonborn tried to appear apathetic, but smiled as he hoped on back of the carriage and waved to her. He was certainly an interesting fellow to say the least. But she hoped he would get to save his friend again.

Doug had an oddity to him, his whole...vibe, something she had never encountered before. He didn't feel like a Nord or a Breton, but his eccentric and timid personality was simply fascinating. The way things went around he must have had something up his sleeve that allowed him to survive this long. And what he was wearing...that white jacket...she'd never seen something so pure, something that the Altmer might construct. It definitely was not Dwemer. Heck she'd just been to a Dwemer ruin not long ago. In fact, that was why she was heading back to Riften in the first place. She'd found a weapon of someone who'd lost it some time ago and was going to give it back to them.

The Dragonborn kept her wits about her. According to what the stars had told her, it must have been early morning with only a few hours until a subtle sunrise. What an eventful evening. She'd saved someone from the Thalmor and saved someone from Bandits. She wouldn't mind meeting that man again. He must have been completely foreign to the entirety of Tamriel if she could guess.

But for now, she needed to head back home. She wondered if Lydia had woken up yet and wondered where her Thane had gone? A slight chuckled bellowed as she wandered forward, looking out to the western plains. She contemplated within her spirit and sucked in the air around her, smirking. She turned around to head back to Breezehome, possibly get some-

**"BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"**

Her head quickly flung around to the sound.

" **SPAAAAAAAAAAAAACE**!"

Something hard and fast fell from the sky, colliding with the ground and creating a huge explosion. From where she standing, she judged it was around that destroyed abandoned house. With a new sense of thrill she ran towards it to investigate.

And wondered if it possessed something for a new adventure.

* * *

 


	2. Space and Explosions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn's patience tested as the weird ball thing keeps talking about space while she tries to figure it what it is and where it came from.

 

The Dragonborn sprinted towards the collision, ultimately curious as to what just happened. A meteorite? Maybe. That's what they'd talked about at some point...in some books that she'd read. But this was exciting! She shuffled her way through some bushes, desperate to find out. She could still see the house..well, in the same, disheveled and roofless way it had been since she originally saw it. Eventually she'd come across the entrance. It was still smoking as it rose to the top, a black hole by the fire place. The burnt wood smoldered but the smoke hadn't faded. She tried flapping it away with her robes, coughing in the process when it accidentally went in her direction. She blinked as the smoke finally went away. In its place, was a round, white ball like object, with two handle bars. She reached over to grab it, with the handle bars hotter than she realized, forcing her to squeal softly as she quickly retracted her hands. Examining it closer, it actually started to stir and slightly move about, surprising the Dragonborn. She moved into a fighting position, equipping her flame spells for both hands, just in case. It continued to do so, until something opened, with its two shutters sliding away, revealing black with some yellow orb inside it. It sparked, mumbling something in the process.

The Dragonborn crept a little closer to it, not much but a bit. It's voice was garbled...but cleaner than overbearing Daedra, that was for sure. It caught wind of the Dragonborns stare, as it moved it's shutters away completely, it's yellow glowing orb striking at her.

"Hey hey hey hey hey hey lady!" It spoke, it's voice eager to get her attention.

She continued to stare at...with a puzzled expression. "Yes?" She answered.

"Let's go to Space!" It chirped.

The Dragonborn browed. "What?"

"Space? You know, Space? Big open space! Big Floaty Space! Come on letsgotospace!"

She withdrew her casts and was left in bewilderment at this...thing speaking to her. What...she shook her head. She already sent Doug off to Winterhold. Now this thing...wants to go...out of into space?

"Lots of stars into space hm? Come on lets go to space!"

She sighed and shook her head. This thing was out of its mind.

"I would love to take you out into space...but I have no idea how!" The Dragonborn explained.

The thing giggled. "Fling me into Space, then I will be into space!"

The only thing she could think of was to give it to a Giant. Their legendary whackings should be able to help it there. But not now. She stepped forward, unsure of the things abilities.

"I'll arrange it for you...at some stage." She said with uncertainty. She leaned over and picked it up by it's bars. It kept repeating 'space' over and over again. This thing was absolutely insane! The Dragonborn wondered, if she could bring it over to the Court Mage that he would be able to analyze it. But that would have to wait. She would have to bring to him later on when he was awake.

She looked around, keeping a look out for anyone who may of seen the shooting..star. She looked down at it.

"Hey, if you pipe down for a while, I'll give you..um...something spacey! If you don't...then I'm just gonna leave you on the ground..."

The meteorite shook. "No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Space is good. Ground is not!"

She glared at the yellow orb, which she gathered was an eye of sorts.

"Then shut up. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

* * *

Surprisingly, the rest of the trip was rather quiet. She snuck back in via the Underforge. Aela had left, which gave the Dragonborn more leeway as she quickly crept out, then managed to make it back to Breezehome.

The Dragonborn was a conflicted being. With the blood of the dovah running through her veins she was always very eager for an adventure. And thus, if it was handed it over to her on a silver platter she would not hesitate to do so. Many things pissed her off if they weren't careful enough to handle her emotional...extremes. Very active, very full on that little even could do so. She always did what was right, and what had to do done in order to secure the future of Skyrim. If that meant saving lives through beating people senseless, possible thievery then yes. After all, she'd only left Skyrim a few years back for some adventure herself, then returned at the worst possible time. And when the revelation came of her status, suddenly a few things made a lot more sense.

She'd grown up in the city of Windhelm with her mother and father. Cold dredge of a place. Extremely depressing with the black stone buildings and the forever snow. Her parents were assassinated by the Dark Brotherhood, which left her being dragged to the Orphanage at Riften. From memory, their caretaker was a nice Argonian woman, which the Dragonborn suspected of having ties to the Thieves Guild, considering she would always sneak out at night herself. She'd grown up, made her way down south for quite some time when she reached a ripe age. Nothing much, she'd worked as a hardworking farmer in Cyrodiil, then when she had enough money saved up, she came back to Skyrim...only to be caught at the border at the wrong place, at the wrong time. By the time she'd gone back to Riften, the Argonian woman was gone, and in her place was a wretched woman known as Grelod the Kind. It disgusted her the way she treated the woman and couldn't do anything about it, lest being caught by the Guards.

But...with all this business with the Dragons lead to her becoming Thane of Whiterun and with the pay coming in from the Companions jobs she had enough money to buy Breezehome...finally a place to call her own. She got to know Lydia, a fellow friendly Nord and her Housecarl that the Jarl had assigned to her protection. She'd take Lydia on certain jobs and errands that needed a little bit of assistance, mainly in dungeons and bandit camps.

But, with the need for thrill and adventured, the Dragonborn, on the suggestion of the Court Mage, went to the College of Winterhold to study some magic. Mainly in part to investigate the dragons but she was ultimately interested in the magic they weld. So she became an Apprentice and got to fill the need for glorious battle, for magic could tip the scales in her favor.

She also became a student of the Greybeards, Masters of the Voice. There were dungeons that held Word Walls, in order for her to learn Shouts. There were quite a few, but this kind of study was crucial to found out more about the Dragons. In actuality, she eventually realized that this was always going to about them...and her own destiny as Dragonborn.

She walked up the stairs, forgetting to cast Muffle in the meanwhile, making a lot of noise. She managed to wake up Lydia unknowingly, as the Housecarl awoke. The Dragonborn shut the doors and placed the...Meteorite under the sheets. The doors soon flung open, with Lyrdia's sword ready.

"My Thane! I heard someone come inside an-" She said, her breath rushed. She soon browed, looking at the Dragonborn strangely. Why was she keeping this a secret anyway?

"Is everything okay?"

The Dragonborns eyes darted left and right, trying not look suspicious as she held on the end of the bed.

"Everythings fine...I uh...was hungry! So...uh...I wolfed down the last of that lamb leg...you know..."

The Housecarl sheathed her sword and sighed with relief. "Well you have been eating a lot. Just warn me next time." She said, walking away.

The Dragonborn smiled nervously and nodded frantically, eagerly wanting Lydia out of her bedroom. As she soon as she was out, she closed the doors and stood before her bed, ripping the sheet off and pondered as she stared at the Meteorite. She wanted to get a few things straight with it.

"Okay...what is your name and where do you come from?" She asked sternly.

The Meteorite shuffled around, its voice quickened.

"Space...space...wanna go to space..." It muttered.

The Dragonborn facepalmed. "No...your name! I want your name!"

The Yellow core seemed to just look at her with a blank expression, before rolling around again.

"Space...spacespacespace...SPAAAAFDKLD" It cried out, before the Dragonborn covered it with the blanket.

"Shh...I will through you outside and bury you alive if you don't shut up!" She threatened.

There was a silence stirring in the air, awkwardly enough as it was. There had to be an easier way to make this thing shut up, at least for a few hours. Looking up at the roof, peaking through its spaces there was a little bit of light in the sky. After five o'clock so it seemed. Cracking her neck, she sat on the side of the bed and slouched. Had she considered his name was Space? She didn't know. An awkward parchment as it was.

She quickly got changed out of her mages clothes and laid on her bed, staring at the roof. The only pain about this was the waiting. Nothing really happened until eight o'clock, and nothing properly ran until nine. She crossed her feet and placed her hands on top of her stomach, clasping them together. Occasionally, her eyes darted towards the bulbous form that lay underneath her red blanket. It barely moved after that.

Her mind eventually moved towards Doug and wondered where he was at this moment and prayed that he wasn't attacked by bandits, but those carriages were pretty good. They stayed to the main roads and never diverted unless necessary. The Dragonborn used to use them all the time before getting a horse. That she needed to get to Riften after this business with the Meteor was done. Mentally planning her day, the Dragonborn considered giving it to Farengar, the Court Mage and leaving him to analyze it. Then, she would head to Riften, which took a few hours by horse. Her bed chest contained Grimsever, a sword for a well-traveled woman friend who lost it during an expedition in a Dwemer ruin. The Dragonborn was never sentimental in what weapon she would use, unless given a valuable weapon of course. The Axe of Whiterun lay hooked on the weapons mantle behind her, a symbol of her status as Thane. But her duty as Harbinger laid her to depend on Skyforge Weaponry, possessing a noble Skyforge Steel made Sword. She may not be that sentimental, but it lay with her to show off her connections, but alas, there are those who are foolish enough to battle the Dragonborn.

She rested for a few hours, dreaming a dreamless sleep once more. She had gotten used to that. Getting up, she equipped her armor and her blade, as well as making the proper arrangements to head to Riften, but first...she had to see Farengar.

The Meteor was hidden from view, as the Dragonborn shoved it in a small wooden box. It shook about, forcing her to be cautious with it, weary it may break if she dropped it. She forced a smile from her battle-weary face as others said their good mornings. The trip from Breezehome to Dragonsreach was basically heading from one side of town to the other. Guards made their comments, wondering what was inside the box. She walked faster, trying to avoid talking to other people.

"OOF!"

Damn it.

She lowered the box to see who she'd bumped into.

"Oh hi!" Said the chirpy voice. A Nord woman with brown hair, wearing a blue and brown dress. She was a kind lady whom the Dragonborn knew was interested in trading and known to converse with the Khajiit outside the city walls.

"Good Morning Ysolda...sorry I gotta run..." Said the Dragonborn urgently.

Ysolda nodded, however she ran to catch up. Ugh...not what she needed.

"Oh that's okay, I wanted to ask you a question..."

The Dragonborn groaned. She didn't have time for this. "Yes?" She said, urgency burning her blood.

"The Khajiit have asked me to retrieve something from one of the caves., You well know that I can't just go out on my own into one of the caves. I'm not exactly as well...you know.."

The Dragonborn lifted an eyebrow...and was getting impatient...but couldn't help resist helping someone. "Sure. Just give me the details later okay? I need to do this!"

Ysolda smiled. "Thanks. Come see me later when you're finished okay?"

The Dragonborn continued walking. She didn't like leaving things unfinished and was compelled to help people wherever they were. It was practically a job requirement for the Companions. Focus! For now... she fled towards the largest and tallest building in all of Whiterun Hold...Dragonsreach.

* * *

Dragonsreach is notable for its history and achievements. Many many years ago, King Olaf One-Eye, had caught the Great Dragon, Numinex and imprisoned it. And once it died, the skull was implanted on the wall of the Great Hall, above the Jarls throne. It stands as a great testament to Whiterun, in which many greatly revere...minus Solitude, but that matter was ignorable for now.

The Dragonborn climbed the great steps. Nothing compared to the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar, but it was still as noble, walking passed the moat and across the bridge and finally entering the great big doors and into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was a large, high roofed and housed many of the Holds' nobles as well as important court officials and the Jarl and his family. The Dragonborn held a valuable ally and friendship with Jarl Balgruuf, but not so much his Dark Elf Housecarl, Irileth who kept a cautious eye on the Dragonborn, despite being a Thane. The wooden floorboards creeked underneath the steel heels as she walked across them, and up into the the dining area, the fire nicely lit, and two long tables on each side, overlooking it. And up at the back wall sat the Jarl, allowing him to watch over the court from his throne. Proventus, his Steward, smiled at the Dragonborn as she walked passed. She gave him a subtle nod, before heading into a room to the right of the court, which was basically the Court Mages...lab...or something. Every Jarl had one. This one, that Jarl Balgruuf had hired, makes the crucial studies into defending Whiterun from potential Dragon attacks.

Over on one of the study benches was a robed man, looking over scriptures as he pressed his hands against it, looking deep in thought. The Dragonborn rolled her eyes and dropped the box onto the bench, making the man jump at the noise.

"By the Eight you scared me!" He cried out. He carefully adjusted his vision, seeing the steel-clad Thane giving him impatient expressions, having her arms crossed and piercing him with her stare. He looked down at the box.

"What is this?"

The Dragonborn heaved a heavy sighed before opening it. "I wanna know what this is..."

She shoved the box forward to him, allowing him to get a closer look.

"What is it?"

She shook her head and explained that it fallen from the sky last night. He looked her with utter curiousness in his eyes. A small nod gave him permission to pick it up. Looking at it closely, he was more interested than confused.

"HEY!"

He dropped it back onto the table in fright standing back in surprise.

"You didn't tell me it talks!" He huffed.

The Dragonborn tapped her finger. "It's harmless. Actually, it's more of a nuisance." She explained. He received another impatient stare.

"So...Farengar, is it Elven? Dwemer...Falmer...Dragon related even?" She asked.

The Meteor rolled about, rambling on.

"Hey..hey...hey...hey...guy you take me to space?" He rabbled.

Farengar blinked in disbelief. "I honestly have no idea at this point. It talks...so if I can just ask it some questions may-"

The Dragonborn shook her head. "I've tried asking for it's name and it's origin. But it keeps talking about Space. I might have come to the conclusion that it's name is Space...I don't know..."

Farengar had a closer look, then his face twisted into skepticism. "So...it's name is Space...it comes from Space and it wants to go back?"

The Meteor wound its Gyro and swirled around excitedly. "Yes! Letsgoletsgoletsgoletsgo..."

The Dragonborn smirked. "I was gonna feed it to the Giants...seen as they pack a walloping with their clubs in that regard. But I don't know how fragile it is."

Farengar rubbed his chin. "Wait, you said it came from Space right?"

The Dragonborn cleaned her ear with her pinky. "Yeah so?"

Farengar look it again. "So it must be sturdy enough to survive entry into the Atmosphere. I've studied meteors and most of the time they burn up. This thing can speak so its armor is practically near perfect...though I'm guessing somewhere inside it is screwed up."

The Dragonborn knew why. "So it's damaged to the point all it could obsess about is Space? Am I right thing?"

The Meteor's expression to the Dragonborn indicated happiness. "Yesyesyesyes...Space is good." It said, humming a tune.

Farengar placed it back inside the box, but it started shaking violently as he did so. The Dragonborn groaned.

"Relax thing...sheesh..."

The Meteor started whimpering. "But...I need Space...box...not spacey enough..."

She and Farengar exchanged looks. He closed the box, with it clonking about inside.

"I can form a hypothesis...I'll have a look into the books and see what I can find." He explained.

The Dragonborn sighed once more. "Alright...how long with that take?"

He placed the box on one of the shelves and returned back. "It might take me some time. I suggest you come back either tonight or tomorrow for an answer, depending if it decides to cooperate."

The Dragonborn nodded. "Very well. I'll be off then."

This gave her enough time to run her errands. In fact, she was so focused on going to Riften that she had forgotten about Ysolda's request. By the time she'd passed her station, the young woman had called out to her, leaving the Dragonborn rather disgruntled. She quickly handed the information to her, then allowed her to be on her way. Finally. No more interruptions.

She headed towards the Stables and hopped on her loyal brown horse, Kodlak, that she had named after the previous Harbinger, then trotted down one of the paths that lead her to Riften. This allowed her to read the letter that Ysolda have given her. You could tell it was written by a Khajit, gathered by the quality of the paper and the handwriting. With one hand fastened onto the harness and the letter in the other, this was a casual stroll through the Tundra of Skyrim.

Examing the letter carefully, it seems the Khajiit were looking for something that had been witnessed at Azura's Shrine by a deceased Khajiit named Jo'Amal. According to a journal, Jo'Amal was on the roof at the College of Winterhold, experimenting when he witnessed something fall from the sky, and seemingly landed somewhere near the Shrine. He went up there, and searched around for where it went. Suddenly, he had found a hidden passage. There was a tomb underneath the Shrine itself, which was strange, considering no where on the map had it stated that there was. However, his body fell to the Draugr in battle...where it was dragged out by Follower of Azura and given to a local Khajiit caravan and sent back to Elseweyr to be buried. The leader of the Caravan wanted to honor his death by searching for what ever was in that tomb and display it. They didn't know who else to trust, other than one of the few human people they could trust to grab it.

"Ysolda..." The Dragonborn muttered.

It made sense however. Ysolda had a great working relationship with the Khajiit. However, she wasn't the toughest Nord in Whiterun. The Dragonborn wondered if she'd asked any of the other Companions. But, then again, Ysolda and the Dragonborn were more ally than friends...well, at least on the Dragonborns part, and thus was the only one she could personally trust to retrieve it.

She scrolled up the letter and put it away, left pondering about this. First the...Space Meteor...now this? Surely they weren't related in anyway. Maybe. But it was another chance to adventure, she guessed. And it was a tomb, so that meant treasures and slaying Draugr and maybe some Spiders along the way. She chuckled...her blade ached to slay something worthwhile.

The rest of the way to Riften was notably quiet. She'd crossed paths with some Guards, acknowledged them with subtle nods. A few wolves had drifted far from their homes and began attacking a walking Caravan. She quickly jumped off her horse and bolted over. She yelled at the group of Nords to get back. There were two of them harrasing and terrorisng the three. The Dragonborn braced herself as the Wolf leaped at her. She smirked.

"FUS RO DAH!" She shouted, throwing the wolves back. Bolting forward again, she jumped into the air and stabbed one of them in the chest, then rolled over and slashed the other, finally spiking that one through it's back. She got up, cleaned her sword and sheathed it. Returning back to the Caravan, she smiled.

"You should be okay now." She said.

One of them was a old Nord Woman, grey hair who smiled at the Dragonborn.

"Thank you very much. We would have been goners if it weren't for you."

The Dragonborn nodded and headed back to her horse. "Don't mention it...those Wolves deserved to be punished for invading our roads."

She whacked herself back on the horse and continued trotting, with the Nords thanking her over and over again. She didn't expect rewards, she only expected that lives were saved from one persons efforts. Sometimes...she often wondered...if situations were solved with just one person. Laughing to herself, it was unlikely for most. If people tried...or luck was their best friend. She shrugged it off, and let the rest of the trip fall into a peaceful trot.

A few hours later, with an undisturbed wander, Riften was in her sights. Great. The town that was seedy, and filled with dirty secrets...and water. There was an autumn feel to it, made of boardwalks with the canal drifting below, as well as the infamous Ratway. It held the Thieves Guild, which had fallen on hard times, it's reputation sliding. The Jarl in charge was Laila Law-Giver, but in practicality it was really Maven Black-Briar, matron of the Black-Briar Meadery. She had ties to not only the Thieves Guild, but to Dark Brotherhood and the well-hated Thalmor and the Empire. Nothing in this town goes without her say in it, without fear of her allies retaliating. The Dragonborn wanted nothing to do with her anyway, considering she was only here to drop off Grimsever.

Although the Dragonborn was in part raised in Riften's Orphanage, she'd seen Maven in her youth, a young girl traversing the streets when it was safe. No one dared to touch a child if their lives depended on it. It was an inborn moral to leave them alone. They hurt no one and no one hurt them. It was an unwritten rule in the entirety of Skyrim itself. Memories floated back when she met one girl who had visited Riften one day.

* * *

The Dragonborn had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a gray dress, sitting on the balcony. Even before she knew she was Dragonborn she felt the inward need to save people. Her Argonian Caretaker forbid her from going outside the City walls, despite the bravery she held since birth. There was seven of them, three girls including herself, and four boys. She used to pick fights with the boys, liked being rough with them, before being pulled out of the way by the Caretaker, who'd given the Dragonborn the nickname of Knight of Orphans. Even though she picked fights, she also mediated between them all if problems arose, and often made her own laws and persecuted those who failed to follow them. The Caretaker noted this well often when trying to explain certain things however.

She was a lovely lady after all. She had kind eyes and always read them stories before bed. She didn't possess any horns or spikey bits and her scales with a rich green, wearing her purple dress on top. Her stories involved a fake Daedric Prince, one that governed over non-sensical things that were kept for the mages. The Dragonborn could barely remember what that Daedric Prince was, but apparently it was very popular. She'd ask if the stories were true, which would only earn a laugh from her. It had occurred to her that she wished she could find that book again.

But onto the stranger stuff, in her mind that she plucked at, at an ordinary day in the smelly streets of Riften...

The Knight of Orphans was kicked out of the Orphanage temporarily after a fight went south. The Caretaker insisted she go out for air and have a think about what she had done, while she tended to one of the boys, whom she punched in the face and successfully knocked him out for trying to kiss one of her female friends...or ally as she so called it. She suspected she was a thief in the making anyway, gathered by her stealing chocolate all the time...and had a fascination with a certain type of jewel if memory serves. The Dragonborn sat outside, watching the citizens go by. What caught her eye immediately was another little girl, hair pinned back and wore a dark red dress with bits of blue. She started talking to an older man, balding with a gray beard and black robes. They way she stood there, her body language was extremely...mature. But the look in her eyes, she could see a darkness, something that, for the first time, frightened the Knight. She watched as she led the Old Man into one of the alleyways. Looking around, the Dragonborn left her post and followed them. She had her hand by her sword, which it was made out of wood, but unbeknowst to the Caretaker, she'd made it extremely sharp.

She slid her back against the wall and turned her head around the corner. They'd slipped into another alleyway, with the Knight tip toeing ever so carefully around, then looked around that corner as well, revealing a dead end. She listened in to their conversation.

"So...where's this cake of yours kind sir? I am ever so hungry..." Asked the girl, her tone so sweet and innocent.

The man laughed. "Ahah my girl, the Cake is a Lie! For you are the sweet dessert after my humble dinner!"

The Dragonborns eyes widened and wanted to step in and do something about it. She charged in forward, unsheathing her wooden sword and stabbing the man in chest. She didn't want this man to eat this poor, helpless and confused girl. The look on her face was full of blood lust as she stabbed the man square in the chest, refusing to let him scream as she covered his mouth and waited for him to die.

His body went limp after that, with her taking out her wooden sword and cleaning it with her dress.

"The Knight of Orphans protects the weak and innocent!" She said proudly. The other girl stood there, quite shocked. The Dragonborn turned to her.

"Are you okay?"

The girl blinked twice. "I'm...uh...fine...thank you." She said, confused.

The Dragonborn nodded. "Good. Now you better get back to your mother and father. I'm sure they'd be worried sick about you."

The girl rubbed her neck. "Uh...sure. What about you? Aren't the guards going to be suspicious if they see your dress stained with that mans blood?"

The Dragonborn shrugged. "I'll just sneak over to the Canal and wash it off. It's no big deal. I'm just glad he wasn't going to eat you. I think he was one of those Vampires that my Caretaker reads us bed time stories about."

The girl smiled nervously, but the Dragonborn was caught up in her own heroism to notice. The way her body lauguage kept suggesting an oddness to her, as she felt awkward.

"Uh yeah..sure..." The girl put her hands in front of her. "So. You're an Orphan right?"

The Knight nodded. "Yup. I someone they turn to when something goes wrong."

It's funny how things worked out in the end. She never ended up seeing the little girl after that. She just...disappeared. She worked out she wasn't a local of Riften, but rather visiting the area with her parents. It was a funny experience though. Wasn't her first murder either. Nobody found or nor did anyone suspect her. In fact, she remembered Maven was in charge those days and voiced her hatred for that criminal. But looking back now, she wondered if he really was a Vampire...

* * *

Stepping into Riften for the umpteenth time, she kept an eye out for the traveled Nord Mjoll. Looking around, she gathered she was at the local inn, The Bee and the Barb, and popped inside. There were many people within the Inn, Nord, Breton and Argonian alike. The Bartender and her Waiter were the Argonian owners. She searched around, seeing Mjoll sitting by the far table, with her friend Aerin. She approached the blonde haired woman and smiled. Mjoll looked up at her.

"Oh hello there! Come sit! Aerin and I were just talking about a rumored Tomb near Winterhold." She said, cheery.

This caught the Dragonborns interest.

"Sure." She said, dragging a chair around.

Mjoll shouted them some mead and sat around the table to drink. She was a kind person, who wanted to clean the filth from within Riften itself. She never failed to express her hatred for the Thieves Guild and the Black-Briar family. But for the most part, she was determined, even for if they seem to still from her. Her journey and quest was not for physical reward but for earning peoples trust. She could see the goodness in peoples hearts.

But her traveling experience, much to her own...half-admitted dismay, was the well of knowledge she poured when it came to exclusive locations. This wasn't exclusive per say, but any information that she carried would be of much help to her.

"So what's this tomb?" She asked, hitting straight on the mark. "I've heard about it..said it was somewhere near Azuras Shrine?"

Mjoll nodded. "Yes. I have been there before and around the Shrine but never found any entrance towards it. Rumor has it is that it has only been there for the past few months."

The Dragonborn browed. "What? How could it be made without nobody noticing? Especially the follower that lives up there?"

Mjoll sipped her mead. "I know. I asked her that myself. She says she used to receive visions until the Azuras Star was cured, then had nothing for months."

The Dragonborn remembered that well. She gave a half smile remembering what she did...having to rid of a spirit who dwelt within, destroying a few Daedra that roamed in there as well. Nothing out of the ordinary. Gained a pretty cool artifact to boot.

"Anything else?" The Dragonborn poked.

Aerin leaned in on the discussion. "She said that she wanted to see the person who helped her cure the star. I hope she gets the message though...I offered to get her message through the courier if she gave us the description of the person. But she was adamant that they would meet again. I didn't pressure her on the subject if she was so sure."

The Dragonborn nodded. A tiny smile rose in her mind...looks like the message was just sent.

"Well she does get visions as you say. I wouldn't be too worried about it. Sounds like she has a lot of faith in them."

Mjoll skulled her mead. "I wouldn't mind meeting this person either. They have methods to purify a Daedric Artifact? Wonder what they could do to an entire town..."

With this in mind, she had a new journey to head off to. Information about this was enough to send her off to her next destination. She got up from her chair and readied herself.

"Well thanks for the mead. I best be off. Places to be, people to meet." She said abruptly.

Mjoll nodded and raised her jug. "May you die with a sword in your hand."

She was walking towards the door when her eyes widened. "Oh...I almost forgot..."

Turning around again, she pulled out a small blade. "I went to those ruins the other day and managed to find your sword."

Mjoll was dumbfounded. "Oh...Oh my. You...you found it?"

The Dragonborn nodded. "Yeah. I was on my way through there, you know, looking to make a quick buck and bamn! I found this, thought it matched your description you know."

Mjoll became teary, with Aerin growing concerned. "Mjoll, are you alright?"

Mjoll sniffed, wiping her tears. "I'm...fine. In fact, I am more than fine. Thank you so so much! I will never forget your kindness!"

The Dragonborn waved to her. "Don't mention it."

* * *

At this point, the Dragonborn headed back to Whiterun, with the time to think on what she should do next. Farengar was still observing the Meteor...or Space, as she'd come to accept calling it. So she'd have to wait until morning. But she wouldn't have time to visit Winterhold at this rate. Visiting it later would be more plausable, given there weren't more interruptions.

The way back was rather pleasant, watching the sun set in the west was always a good sight to see, then again, it also indicated the dangers of the night were silently approaching. She went passed a few guards, acknowledged her presence. She looked in the direction of Winterhold and screened her mind into Dougs well-being once more. Was he dead yet? She didn't know. He better man up soon or else she'd find his corpse near a Troll cave. She laughed at the prospect, as sadistic as she felt.

A few hours later she arrived back in Whiterun and went straight home to get something to eat. Lydia had made dinner and asked her Thane how her day went. Some parts of her life the Dragonborn can be honest with her Housecarl, some...cannot. She had no idea why she did this...but she did it. Conversations were asked about the Companions, which none needed her advice today. Which was okay. They were pretty tough without her most of the time anyway. It was getting late, shops were closing and another first for the Dragonborn she was getting pretty tired and headed upstairs for some sleep...and didn't wake up for some time...

Sleep wasn't too bad for once. She didn't dream but at least there was some rest, for what it was with those with Beast Blood. She stretched her arms as the sun shone down on her face. It had to be after Nine am at least. Cracking her neck, she quickly got dressed and had breakfast with Lydia. After that, she got dressed in her normal civilian clothes and headed to Dragonsreach.

She walked through the Great Hall, where she browed at the amount of guards hanging around outside the Court Mages Lab. She fled up, where Farengar lay on the ground, and the Priestess of Kynareth kneeled beside him, using her magic blessed from the Goddess to heal him. The Thane pushed her way through the crowd.

"What happened?" The Dragonborn demanded. The Jarls housecarl, the Dark Elf Irileth was there to investigate the scene as always. She crossed her arms.

"Foolish Farengar was experimenting on some project he said you gave to him. He was casting some spell that ended up nearly destroying everything...what were you trying to do...kill us all?"

Both the Dragonborns eyebrows rose with surprise. "What? No! I wanted him to find out where this thing came from." She said, looking around. "Where is the thing now?"

A few coughs were coming in from Farengars direction.

"Its...still in there...on the floor..." Farengar responded.

The Dragonborn charged in there, with Irileth glaring. That elf never gave her a break.

"Are you mad? You're trying to get yourself killed?" She scolded.

This was getting pathetic. "I'm not. I'll take it to the College of Winterhold. I'm sure they've got more sensible people who want to study it in far greater virtues of safety..."

Farengar coughed again. "Sorry...*cough*"

The Dragonborn shook her head. "Don't..." She sighed. "Don't worry about it. So did you did you actually get anything out of it? Anything at all?"

Farengar tried to sit up, against the advice of the Priestess. "Safe to say it's not from any of my knowledge. *cough * or my books...but yeah...maybe the College would know something."

The Dragonborn nodded. "Alright. I'm gonna grab it now...anyone gonna stop me?"

Everyone looked at each other. It was so foreign and this..thing caused the entire lab to be shred to pieces, gathering by the damage that the Dragonborn could see as soon as she got in there. Tables were destroyed and debris had been flown everywhere, with a black spot in the middle. She happily wandered over to it and picked it up, staring into it's big yellow core.

"Did you do this?" She asked it sternly, with a glare in in her eyes.

"No...no...he wouldn't teleport me to space! I...I...I he he he threatened to put me back in the box...no space in the box...please...takemetospacetakemetospace!"

The Dragonborn sighed. There goes his rambling again. She checked the rather large white ball out thoroughly. Hardly a scratch. Now this just got interesting by the minute. She walked out with the Space thing, where everyone stood back, with the guards drawing their swords. She gave them looks. She rose the thing up into the air, allowing it to look around. Some gasped, while Irileth growled.

"I'm utterly convinced..." She said, albeit confused.

The Dragonborn laughed internally...externally, she rolled her eyes. Then looked at the Jarl.

"Are you a certain of this Dragonborn?" He asked. Irileth stood in front of him.

"I wouldn't bother my Jarl. She's completely insane." She said calmly.

The Dragonborn shook her head in disbelief. "My Jarl I wouldn't worry. The little guy only wants to go to space."

"SPACESPACESPACELETSGOTOSPACE!"

She lowered the thing and held her arm over, leaning it against her hip.

"As I was saying, I'm going to Winterhold now. So you can be sure all of you will be safe." She said with cockiness. She smirked as Irileth snarled in her direction.

* * *

Another journey to be had of course. One of things to do she was sure of. She packed her stuff, informed Lydia where she was going, strapped on her gear...she liked where this was going. No one bothered to know what happened between the Meteor and the Court Mage. Not even the Jarl himself. As long as no one was hurt not much would be investigated. Farengar was far too interested in Dragons, clicking back to when he'd first heard Dragons had returned he was eager to go see one in battle, but the Jarl was wise to disallow him that pleasure. If anything, she'd wager the Jarl should be more concerned about the fact how reckless he could be. The Dragonborn just took pleasure in stirring them with something they feared was with something that shouldn't.

Sitting down on the bed she contemplated for a moment. The Thing sat on the bed next to her as she stared at a map of Skyrim. It rolled over to her for a moment.

"Isthatspace?" He sputtered, setting off a spark.

She shook her head and whacked it. "NO! I mean..no...it's a map of Skyrim. You fell from the sky idiot...shouldn't have you seen it from above?"

The thing rolled. "No..no...I didn't...I didn't...I was happy in space!"

Her eyes rolled again. She pointed to a part in the map. "We're going here. Now." She said abruptly and arrogantly.

The thing scanned the paper. "Is that space?" It asked.

She had the urge to hit it. "No...that is Winterhold. There, we can find out HOW we can help you."

"So I can get back to space?"

"...yes..." She said with a heavy breath.

This was going to be draining...


	3. Dragons and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn heads to the College of Winterhold as the Space Core tests her patience and finds a familiar face in another unusual hostage situation.

 

A trip to the northern part of the province was only going to get colder and colder. She was well enough prepared and organized. She was a Nord however, she wouldn't care about the cold anyway.

Kodlaks hooves pushed on, as well as a Skyrim Horse could. They weren't known for their speed, but were praised for their endurance, as well as their incredible vigilance when climbing steep mountains, which is why they were much used during long hard journeys through the mountains, especially when reaching Winterhold or Dawnstar. Sometimes the Dragonborn wished she was a horse. Damn rocky mountains. She cursed them to the ends of Nirn! Actually, if there was a shout that toppled them, she would definitely use them. As long as everyone was out of the way of course.

But for now she was within the bounds of the abilities the Gods had given her. Dragonborn or no Dragonborn, this how she was going to pull things whether people liked it or not. If she had to go by their rules, then so be it, as long as she get what she wants in the end. Most things ended with a goal. Whether it gave her power or not, she was compelled to finish the job and see through to it to the end.

Even though she had one annoying passenger on the side...

"Hey hey hey hey hey hey lady!" It rabbled. Patience wasn't much of a virtue right now.

"For the last time...I'M TAKING YOU THERE!" She yelled.

Suddenly he shirked, his shutters squinting. She recognized that shaking expression as afraid. Good. Hopefully it'd keep quiet.

"No..no..no...I wanted to make conversation...you know?" He said with a stutter.

"About Space right?" She said, her brows furrowing.

".. We can if you want?" He answered.

She rolled her eyes as the snow started to fall in the area.

They were half way to Winterhold, as they took the path from Whiterun. The mountains were up ahead and Windhelm lay behind them. She wasn't in the mood to speak but if it opened it up, she guessed they had to.

"So...what's so great about space?" She asked begrudgingly.

"Space...you know, black holes? Big Dipper...ohyeah gotta have the Big Dipper!" It chirped happily.

She tied it to the back of her with a rope, with his strange, yellow orb thing, which she believed was an eye of sorts. There was the hope that it wouldn't start shoving electrical magic out like it had been. But it'd been calm, so that was a bonus for her, since her armor didn't have the right enchantments for it.

"Where you born in space? Is it your home?" She wondered.

"...was born...in a lab..." It replied.

In a lab? Like a Court Mages lab? Or somewhere along the lines of the Mages Guild or the College Lab?

"A lab hm? Where is this Lab?" She wondered, legitimately curious.

It didn't seem to reply to that question, as it started to mutter to itself again. She heard the word space pop up every so often as she kept her pace.

"HEY! ANSWER ME!" She yelled.

It shirked once more.

"I...I...lab...lab isn't in space!" He finally answered.

The Dragonborn groaned. Theories in her head were inbound.

"Obviously...Mortals can't breath in space...unless you were born in another Realm or were a construction of the Gods." She surmised.

She'd confused the poor thing as it attempted to roll around.

"Gods...no...Gods in space? Wanna meet em...they help me...they send me through space." He continued, so eagerly.

Her eyes technically fell back into her head at that remark. They thought she was insane. Obviously they hadn't spent as much time with it as she had. So she asked him the question again.

"Where is this Lab?" She asked again. She weighed her patience, no matter how thin it was to begin with.

"HEY!"

"Um...umm...Lab...Lab...Aperture Laboratories...do... **WE DO WHAT ME MUST BECAUSE WE CAN!**...in space..." He said.

Aperture...Laboratories? She'd never heard of it. If she could make due on the name, hopefully someone at the College would know about it. This was good...they were making progress. Progress was also good. She tried to pluck more stuff out of it.

"So you're from...Aperture...Lab...hm...where might that be?" She queried.

"I...I...Um...umm...sorry, confidential information...Space isn't confidential you know? Let's talk about it!" He exclaimed.

Damn. No sell. Someone had definitely made it then. Its material was near indestructible and something she had never seen before. It survived a heavy and fast descent. Also, what ever the heck that Farengar was doing to it. Stupid Court Mage. His own fault. She believed she was a superior student at the College of Winterhold...although she was never there half the time. Being a Harbinger is hard work after all, but with her confidence she could succeed in becoming a talented mage...her ultimate goal pushing out those career choices and beyond the call of all of them. A figure, lay in her mind, of the ultimate fighting machine who could mow down anyone she well pleased. The spark was forever in her eye to uphold the mighty title of Dragonborn!

She knew she wasn't quite the expert...yet...in the magical arts of magehood. But she had already impressed others with her discovery into a mysterious object found in the ruins of Saarthal, round and all sparkled with magicka goodness. She didn't have time to figure out the objects origin of course, she'd left that with the Mages to sort out. She hated all the facts and abstract work...mathematical crap that made no sense to her. All she needed was the spells to fight! Especially useful when burning Trolls to a Crisp, or defence spells when she fought the rogue witches and wizards that hid away in their caverns.

It grew colder as she drew closer as the breeze grew in strength, whistling about and dancing the snow everywhere. The Sea came into view, albeit covered in fog and snow, its salty scent ringing her nose. The thought of a Horker lunch made her hungry as she trekked down to the sea shore. Hopping off the horse, there was a loner Horker, adult, about to dive in to find its own. The Dragonborn licked her lips as she charged, stabbing the Horker through its neck. Next, came preparing a fire and a pot to cook the Horker meat. The tusks could be worth something as she ripped them out and cleaned them, shoving them into her bag. Space wasn't doing much at the moment, rather, his expression seemed...frightened by the fact she was so violent with her food. He hadn't belted a word out for the past few hours. The Dragonborn continued cooking her meal and was heading for some decent peace before the inevitable ends of her trip. Ahh...

Her eyes darted open at a sound of growling. Her instincts lead to look at Space, who was still strapped to Kodlak. Standing up, she walked over to him and looking in his...eye..thing.

He stared at her back, his shuttered opening and closing at high velocity, his hyperactivity on the rise.

"Hey..hey..hey lady...I hear noise!" He said.

So it was neither him, or her ears going crazy. Going into a crouch, she sniffed the air, the beast blood giving her senses quite the boost. She brought out her sword, and readied a fire spell in her other hand. The smell of fish was quite potent, but her tough stomach could handle it. She patted Kodlak's back and silently ordered it to take it and Space somewhere safe. They hid behind a nearby rock, with Space shifting about, wanting to see the action so anxiously. The Dragonborn carefully scanned the area, with no sign of the threat. There was the thought of using Aura Whisper, until she heard a fast shuffle behind it. Spinning around, it had long gone, forcing her to spin back, her heart on edge. Her heels dug into the snow below her, but there was enough stability for her to control her motions. Dull brown, below shoulder length hair whisked off in the wind, forcing her to place them behind her ears in the silent commotion. A few more growls, another whip around.

"Where are you?" She muttered.

"HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY!" Shouted Space.

The Dragonborn grunted, ignoring the idiotic ball. There was nothing around here, but the growling just continued. Aura Whisper would have to do for now...

"LAAS-"

"HEY! HEY! HEY!" Space called out, disrupting the Dragonborns shout. She groaned and stomped her way to the ball, forcibly taking it out of it's restraints and picking it up, glaring at it.

" **BY THE NINE, IF THIS IS ABOUT SPACE, I WILL PERSONALLY DIG A MASSIVE HOLE IN THE EARTH, THROW YOU IN THAT HOLE AND THROW THE DIRT BACK UP SO YOU WILL NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO SEE SPACE...EVER!** " She roared, fire in her eyes.

It's shutters blinked at it shook slightly, then calmed down suddenly after.

"No...Nononono not about space!" It replied, frightened.

" **THEN WHAT IS IT?** "

It's eye rolled around beside her.  
"Lunch...food...meat...gone. Gone where? I don't know..space maybe? Maybe it went and found a way to go to space an-"

She threw it downwards, landing face first in the the snow. Looking towards the pot above the fire, it had, to her horror, disappeared. She squinted with rage. Her fingers twitched, face flaring...

" **Nobody...I mean, nobody takes my meal...and LIVES!** " She said, in an awfully calm fashion.

Space somehow shifted itself to get a better view of what was going on. It could see the Dragonborn ripping off her armor in such a haste, bellowing a great roar as she changed her form, watch darkness overcome her as her armor fell off, her arms and legs stretching and thinning, her face extending into a long snout.

"This isn't good...wanna go to space now..." He muttered.

The Dragonborn howled as she completed her Werewolf transformation. She crawled over to Space and picked it up, it rolling around in fear.

"Okay nice...nice nice. Wolf Lady. Pretty...Pretty Wolf Lady!" It cluttered. She shoved it back on her horse and moved off out of the things view. It then looked at Kodlak.

"Come on horse, lets move! You can take me to Space!" It yelped.

The horse didn't bother moving, but it swatted Space with it's tail repeatedly.

"Okay...okay...okay...stop hitting me..."

* * *

The Dragonborn was gone for some time, worrying Space. How was he going to get back up there anyway? All he could do was obsess about it. His programming was messed up, and somehow he knew that. The crazy Wolf Lady had no idea where he came from and it was due to some unbroken programming that he couldn't tell her. Long had he missed the days where it was just him and Wheatley, another friendly Core like him, and they drifted through space together in utter happiness. Oh those days were long gone and Space needed to get back out there. Wheatley could be lonely...or having fun without him. Oh the stories he could tell him, about the Crazy Wolf Lady and how he met her in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't properly plan his escape, not really. His mind was filled with untamed thoughts of space, and therefore no proper deductions could be made. His own creation used to be more sane, until an even crazier lady had broken some of his circuits, therefore making him corrupt and unusable by the humans. Not that it affected his feelings of course.

Kodlak lay behind a large stone, shielding itself from the blizzard. A fearless creature, Space repeatedly called out to him, his usual, rushed excited mutters, with a constant reference to space. If Kodlak had any concept of humanoid sentience, he would have kicked him off long ago. But it seemed annoyed at Space's inadequate behavior. If his master permitted, he would drag him against the giant stone they were against. But alas, he knew his master would drop him off somewhere, able to finally forget him.

"Where she gone? Where has she gone? She didn't go to space without me did she? She promised...promised me space."

Suddenly there was some barely audible howling in the distance, filtered through the snow and the wind's whistling. He shuddered as he looked in Kodlak's direction.

"Crazy Wolf Lady? Is that you? Is it? Is it?" He asked, his efforts fruitless.

The sound of something soft hitting the snow grew louder and louder at at even slow pace. Eventually, he heard breathing by his side. He adjusted himself to get a good look, and sparked, scaring poor Kodlak into standing and turning around.

She'd returned, albeit not speaking to either of them. She walked off, with Kodlak following. Judging by the small examination he'd made, she was covered in blood, splattered on her fur ridden torso and her snout. Slowly she made her way into the freezing waters and washed herself off, reforming back into her human form. Turning around, she headed back to her armor. A single visage of her naked form caused a random spark attack from Space, whom received another lashing from Kodlak.

The Dragonborn strapped on her gear and cracked her knuckles. She possessed a wolfish grin that made Space rather unsettled, licking her lips, combing her hair back with her fingers.

"A Frost Troll dared to enter and eat my meat. Well I knocked on his door and stole it right back..." She chuckled, preparing the saddle. "I had dessert also."

Space shook briefly, fearful of the Crazy Wolf Lady. She approached Kodlak, then exchanged looks with Space, whom she sensed was uneased by the sight. She laughed.

"So...you refuse to say anything? Great. Because if you tell a single soul about my Lycanthropy, I might as well have supper."

Space gulped. "No..no I won't Crazy Wolf Lady. I'll be good...won't talk...won't talk about how great space is."

The Dragonborn smirked, having her hands to her hips as she was glad of his answer.

"Fine. Now let's get you to Winterhold..."

* * *

A few hours later she arrived at the cliffs edge town known as Winterhold. It was dreary, even more depressing than Windhelm, seemed to suck the life out of you as soon as you saw the damaged town. It sat on the edge of a cliff and mountainside since the Great Collapse and it always snowed. It had one main thoroughfare that lead into the colossal College. Whispers from the local Nords never hid their hatred for the College, even the Jarl, whom was sided with the Stormcloaks. Mostly the residents of Winterhold and those who dwelled within the College kept themselves separate, but many of the local business depending on the business that the College brought...even the local Inn was filled with students and teachers alike, trading magical stories and given advice. Perhaps some would drown their sorrows with failed experiments. She still wanted to know what the Arch Mage meant by the disappeared group of Apprentices...it intrigued her, but he never went on with it again after that. Oh well...would have made of for another random quest if he'd ask.

She left Kodlak outside the town and walked down the main street. The first building she'd passed on her right was a broken and abandoned house, presumably affected by the Great Collapse, but nobody wanted anything by it or touched it, fearful for making things worse if it was cursed. She'd grabbed Space and strapped it to her back, glaring at it before doing so. The soft trots through the cold snow turned into the clunking of armor banging on the hard dirt beneath as she entered the street. Guards walked by as usual, with the Dragonborn giving a subtle nod. She sighed briefly, looking at the local Inn, The Frozen Hearth. Her belly was full, but she needed something to drink.

Heading inside, it was just as empty as the outside, save for a College Mage, a Bard and the local Bartender, cleaning a mug. She brought up a seat by the bench and ordered an ale.

"Hello friend...you seem to be weary. Out in battle recently?" Asked Dagur, as he leaned on the bench.

The Dragonborn nodded, sipping her drink.  
"Yeah. Got some College business to deal with." She said as a half truth.

"Yet again I see. You never seem to come by as often anymore. Tending your resignation?" Dagur chuckled.

The Dragonborn smirked and shook her head. "Nah. I've been far too busy with work in Whiterun...you know, with the Companions n' all."

Dagur nodded, pouting his lips briefly. "Ahh that's right. I forgot you were the New Harbinger. Say how's Aela doing?"

Within her mind, The Dragonborn groaned. Aela must have had a job up here recently, possibly...with Dagur getting the hots for her. She doubted the aggressive hunter would even consider such a thing.

"She's good as always. Tending to her work and needs."

Local inns were usually great places to hear rumors and find bounties out on bandits or giants who seemed to give Holds quite a bit of trouble. Not to mention friendly old drinks with friends...or allies. Or what ever.

"So what's new around here? Beside the lack of people?" She joked.

Dagur began cleaning another mug. "Oh nothing much. Except for that strange meteor that everyone keeps talking about."

The Dragonborn nodded. "Oh yeah. I heard about that. I also heard a Khajiit had gone up there...I'm not sure whether he was a student of the College or..."

Dagur looked surprised, but then his face returned to normal. "I was going to say you were, but then again you did say you were very busy with the Companions. Jo'Amal was one of the top mages visiting the College to give a lecture on Inter-dimensional Planes."

The Dragonborn browed. "He was studying Daedra?"

Dagur rubbed his chin. "Well...not exactly. He said he'd been receiving dreams and visions from Azura, which was strange considering that Azura already had a follower to send them to. He was planning to head up there and talk to the Priestess Aranea..."

The Dragonborn remembered encountering Aranea. A Dark Elf woman, worshiping the Daedric Princess from the shrine itself. She had received visions of the Dragonborns arrival...and apparently before she was even born. Destiny had a funny way of showing things.

"He'd come back, with Aranea dismissing his claims, saying that Azura only speaks to her. My thoughts were Amal was insane, or Azura was needing a new Priest." Dagur continued.

The Dragonborn rubbed her head. "Then he died, exploring some tomb that had only been found near there just recently." She explained.

Dagur frowned. "I was wondering what happened to him. Such a shame. He was one of the few kind Khajiit welcomed within the city limits...him and that J'zargo weirdo."

The Dragonborn smirked. "Well yeah I'm sure SOMEBODY has to investigate or had to investigate the reason."

Dagur shook his head. "Oh no...everyone's been too fearful to even walk up there, especially if Azura was nearby. She may be one of few kind Daedra Princes, buy the Arch Mage forbids any of the Apprentices to go near her. The Arch Mage himself, I suspect, is scared to go up there, if what Nelacar had told me."

Perfect. She'd just go up there an-

" **RYAWWWWWWWWW** "

The Inn rumbled underneath the vibrations of the sudden roar. The Dragonborn only knew one thing that would do that. Space started shaking again out of fear and began muttering incoherently. She looked at the fair-haired man apathetically as he cowered underneath the bench. She looked forward, then towards her Ale. Another rumble sent the Bard to find some shelter as snow seeped through the cracks. The Dragonborn rubbed her nose and examined the ale, tilting it slightly, whilst the Inn rumbled once more and the cries getting louder. Dagur rambled on about guards and wanting the Dragonborn to find some shelter or do something with herself.

"Yeah yeah hang on...lemme finish me drink." She said, tightening her grip.

She lifted the bottle up, shoved the tip in her mouth and lifted it, gulping the ale.

_Glug glug glug glug glug glug glug glug glug glug glug_

Took her about a less than a minute to finish it, before taking the brown bottle out of her mouth and slamming it on the bench, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She casually got off the stool and took out her sword, swinging it about, testing the strength of her wrist and arm. Her eyes were half-lidded, near boredom. Another rumble and roar didn't detest her in the slightest. She groaned as she walked towards the exit.

Outside, Guards had their bows drawn, taunting the creature that soared through the skies. Snowflakes flushed inward as it clamped down othe roof of the Frozen Hearth. A quick examination allowed her to identify it...spiky looking thing, light gray with some dark gray patterns with a spade shaoed tail. And yes...those Spikes were massive...

"Frost Dragon eh?" She named.

"FO!" It roared, breathing ice onto the guards below. The Dragonborn rolled away, and leant on one knee. She'd forgotten her bow at home...idiot. She knew they were attracted to Winterhold. She berated herself briefly for being so stupid, before seeing one of the guards had been killed by the dragons frosty shout. A glimpse at her lips revealed a small smile. She watched the Dragon closely, as it rose up into the air, heading towards the College.

The Dragonborn picked up the bow and the bunch of arrows from the deceased Guard and bolted to the Dragon itself.

"Why fight Dragon? Dragon is bad. Dragon's can fly. Dragon take me to space?" Said Space.

She ignored him whilst running with the other guards to the others location. The sound of heavy flapping indicated the Dragon had risen up again, but another noise caught her ear.

"SOMEONE! HELP ME!" It yelled, sounding like a middle aged man in crisis. Looking up, the Dragon had somebody in white clothing clutched in their claws, flapping around in their roars, shouting ice at her. But the voice sounded familiar, somewhat. Their coat flapped in the wind. The Dragonborn blinked at the sight of messy black hair.

"You have got to be kidding me." She groaned, left eyebrow raised.

The Dragon flapped around in its ferociousness, its untimely roars sending civilians flocking away into the safety of the buildings. The Dragonborn on the other hand, had other ideas.

"IT'S GOING TO EAT ME! HELP! SOMEBODY!"

The Dragonborn facepalmed.  
"Yeah hang on..." She responded unenthusiastically. Now that she mentioned it, she needed more Dragon Bones and Scales. Stuff made a lot of money on the market.

She didn't really get pissed off until the Dragon started flying away from Winterhold. One shout, a tactic she used often, would force it to turn around.

"ZUL MEY GUT!" She shouted, the velocity and power of the shout distorted the air around her mouth and several meters outward, disintegrating the snowflakes. Suddenly, the Dragon turned around, and muttered something in its Dragon language. The Dragonborn didn't understand what she said, but she knew the extent was insult based. She was taunting it.

"Yeah I said it...what are YOU going to do about it...while you're at it, why don't you drop that human? He ain't gonna be that tasty..." She boasted, taunting it some more.

It growled as it flapped on the spot, it's steely gaze held upon the small mortal in the distance. The Dragonborn started walking forward, increasing in space, then into a jog, then a full on bolt once she was nearly outside the city borders.

The man clutched it's claws could see the Dragonborn and held a great big smile. "Hey! It's you! The Harbinger!"

The Dragonborn ignored him and took a battle crouch as the Dragon charged at her, shouting it's frost breath once more. She did a commando roll to the side, taking out the bow from before. She grabbed an arrow, and pulled back the string, shooting the Dragon in the neck, a whelping cry of pain cried out of its mouth. It rose again, flying, almost climbing the side of the mountain. Her eyes were pinned on to it's form, ears trying but failing to block out the pleas for help.

"Relax Doug...you're gonna be fine." She said silently to herself, edging for the Dragon to come back down. It'd reached the top of the mountain and stayed up there, shouting Draconic nonsense in her direction. Flicking her hair out of her face, the Dragonborn placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

"Doug get eaten? Is he? Is the Dragon taking him to space? Hm? Hm? Hm?" Asked Space.

To this point, that was probably one of the more logical questions it'd pointed out.

"No...that Dragon is frightened of me." She calmly said in her arrogance. Kodlak clopped to her side as the Dragonborn swung herself on, placing the bow on her back. She pressured the horse to climb the mountain as Skyrim's horses did with such fumbled grace and dexterity, mountain climbing far faster than any bipedal in the province. It fascinated some, but didn't surprise the Dragonborn. No...she loved it. Short cuts galore was her opinion of it.

Space suddenly got really excited as they climbed higher and higher up the mountain. He sparked several times but the Dragonborn wasn't phased at all. Her entire focus had been to slay this Dragon...and if she it came to it save Doug as well. Oh what the Oblivion, might as well save him for the challenge. This had gotten better and better by the moment as she'd reached the top in a glorious fashion.

The Dragon stood on top of the stone, with Doug still clutched in one its' claws. It roared into the heavens, as if calling to the Gods themselves, threatening them with it's fury, disrupting the snow around it, flapping and extending it's wingspan, one of the intimidation tactics that Dragons would employ to anyone that had invaded their territory. Nope, sorry, this wasn't going to end pretty.

The Dragonborn dodged another shout of ice, jumping off Kodlak, and causing a yelp from Space. Kodlak was pretty hardy for a horse, and it's agility useful as it rode away to safety. Good horse.

Doug stared at the Harbinger as she brought out the bow and arrow again, this time shooting the Dragon on it's left wing. It rose up into the air, swishing its wings to make it float, a gust of wind emanating from it, the Dragonborn forced to shield her eyes from the piercing breeze.

It flew around behind her, leaving the Dragonborn in a bit of a confused daze, her vision failing to catch where the Dragon had gone. Her eyes darted left to right. Great...she'd lost it. It wasn't making any noise, as the blizzard was growing thicker, making it even harder to see. There was a brief contemplation of using Aura Whisper until...

"HEY HEY HEY HEY BEHIND YOU!" Space yelled.

Her eyes widened, a split second roar forced the Dragonborn to duck down, as she felt the boom over her caused by the fly over of the dragon. In the small time between its traversing, the Dragonborn saw the moment, with it's back to her, drawing out and arrow and firing into it's neck.

Letting off a screech of agony, the Dragon flipped on to it's back and flew upside down over the Dragonborn, with her watching it turn back over and fly down the mountain.

She shook her head softly, her face full of disapproval. Tightening her fists in rage, strands of hair temporary blocked her view as she lowered her head down, staring at the Dragon as it wooshed upwards. She heard a FO shout, and rolled out of the way, hearing Dougs cries for help as it zoomed passed her. An eyebrow rose in satisfaction as it flew up and around, roaring again as she fired another arrow into it. It descended quicker than she expected, but it made it up for that, lowering it's neck towards it her with the intent to crunch, but to Doug's and Space's surprise, she'd wrapped her arm around the neck instead, pushing herself around, then swinging herself back up, rolling, then settling herself on it's neck. She smirked.

"I have many names Dragon...in my youth, I was the Knight of Orphans, defending the meek." She calmly, as it flew about. It tried to shake her off, but she'd grabbed a good hold of it, wobbling its neck about desperate to make her lose balance, but she held her grip right on to one of its spikes.

"Today...I am the Thane of Whiterun..." She continued, her voicing rising. "EARNED by slaying one of your brethren outside. So I am rightly disappointed in your work here Dragon..."

It began muttering something in the Dragon Tongue, that the Dragonborn didn't reply, due to not knowing the language. Doug's eyes widened in surprise. She slew a Dragon before?

"I am the Harbinger of the Companions. I bring wisdom and honor with dedication and righteousness!" The proudness and level of her voice continued to rise with intensity. The Dragon turned itself upside down, however, but the Dragonborn would have nothing of it! She stabbed the Horker Tusk into it's neck, blood bursting everywhere, the Frost Dragon gasped and groaned in its harsh, graining voice. She growled and roared briefly. "HEY! GET YOUR BACK STRAIGHT! I WASN'T FINISHED!"

Doug was in complete disbelief with the impossible nature of this woman. It was clear she wanted the Dragon alive long enough for it to hear what else she had to say. The crumpled man just wanted her to kill it already!

She forced it to fly upright, digging the Horker Tusk deeper into its neck.

"Now...where was I...Oh yeah..." She said, unphased by it all. "I am also a STUDENT of the COLLEGE OF WINTERHOLD! Another GRAVE mistake that will definitely send your bones down to the bottom of the Sea of Ghosts!"

Doug could see that the Frost Dragon was circling around Winterhold itself. He was shaking with fear as he realized how far they were up from the ground. He chatted his teeth, his fear taking over the fact that he was extremely cold. Internally he mumbled for her to get on with it...but her sheer will to initiate speech with an indecipherable creature made him wonder why she was doing it in the first place.

"I am..also a STUDENT of the Greybeards! You know, MASTERS OF THE VOICE! I'm sure you met with them...OH WAIT, YOU HAVEN'T!"

Now she was really just gloating her achievements. He got it. She liked doing things that involved, combat, quests and adventure. JUST KILL IT!

She dug the other Horker Tusk into the other side of its neck, blood gushing out and causing the Dragon to scream. It attempted to shout as it was going to crash into the Courtyard of the College, but it was too late. It'd been weakened to the point where it had dropped Doug, but it was low enough to not kill him, though, you would have to give the thick, soft snow some credit as well.

He rolled around, hitting one of the grey stone pillars that supported the outdoor roof area of the College. Soon the Dragon smashed into the middle of the College, destroying the Statue in the middle. The Dragonborn jumped off it's neck and drew out her sword. Doug was conscious enough to see the murderous glint in her eye, but it also held something else within. He looked at with detail, for as long as he could hold it. Her hand firmly grasped on to her sword, the dragon blood that had splattered all over her usually shiny steel armor, her hardened, tattered, bloodied hair looked more like dreadlocks than anything else. Her face full of fire and determination, her thick dull brown brows dipped in between, causing some dread from within, her grey-green eyes possessing the mentioned glint, her pale red lips being patted by her tongue, her pale face now reddened with fury and flame,

"And finally..." She muttered, in a that strange, creepy calmness that she had before. The Dragon shouted a weak FO.

"WATCH OUT!" Doug called out, he winced as he held on to his chest...

The Dragonborn did not hesitate to answer.

"I AM THE DRAGONBORN BITCH! FUS RO DAH!" She shouted at high velocity, taking a nominal fighters crouch, her mouth wide open as she repelled the flames of ice heading towards her. In the moment of the Dragons' immobility, she charged for ward, lowered her sword underneath it's head, then with her entire strength, shot it through, screaming as she stabbed through it's skull, the tip of the sword pushing out of it the scalp, more dragons blood splashing everywhere. The Dragon roared in pain, before finally dying to a halt.

Doug had pushed himself up against a pillar, amazed at the tenacity of this...woman. If it weren't for general insanity, she would be just like...her. He held his side as he limped towards her. Great...another broken bone. Just what he needed. The Dragonborn had stopped screaming and pulled the sword out from it's skull, sheathing. Doug was desperate to talk to her, but his words kept scrambling over themselves. She knew he was there, but pushed him back into the snow as she began to walk backwards. He landed on his elbows and mentally adjusted his vision. He looked over to the Frost Dragon who started to possess a golden glow. A warmth surrounded his body as he realized it had gone up in flames, a yellow, wispy around growing around it. Suddenly, the wind picked up, taking the aura and transporting it to...her? Her body was...somehow absorbing the Dragons energies, the wind whistles almost deafening. The Dragonborn's arms had risen up, the expression on her face had softened greatly, almost peaceful looking, but without the violent, murderous intent behind it. Weight had been shifted off her shoulders. Relaxed, so he had gathered. Unfortunately, he started to feel weary, the battle to keep his eyes open a losing one, as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Clouds floated in the air, against the bright blue sky as he laid in the wheat-fields. The scent was fresh and the gentle breeze escorted the clouds. It was a lovely sight to see, the images warming his heart. He tilted his head next to him as he heard various whispers. His eyes became fixated on the gray cube adorned with one heart on each side. He had finally found his friend?

"I've missed you." Doug whimpered, almost in tears.

"It's going to be a long journey ahead for you." The Cube replied, voice feminine, moderately pitched yet strangely prophetic and comforting to his mangled spirit. Doug squinted.

"Why do I get the strange sensation this is beginning to happen all over again?"

The Cube laid still amongst the dancing wheat, a stark contrast that made it stand out.

To himself there a blatant darkness, ill with the bags under his eyes, gaunt face and different coloured eyes. He missed the days when he was a little more handsome than this, well...maybe he wasn't THAT handsome...he was a scrawny, funny man. He was a nerd, geeky for sure, as well as his eyes kind of freaked some people out. Didn't matter when his condition got worse...along with his benevolent mentally unhealthy psyche.

"Collectively, have you properly processed where you are?" The Cube asked.

Doug sat up and leaned on his arms, then rubbed the back of his neck. He'd arrived in Winterhold in search of the Cube, asking around town for a box-shaped thing with hearts. A lot of them said no, or completely ignored him. The people of Skyrim were sure rude at times. And it was just too damn cold! How could these people put up with this type of weather! It reminded him of childhood trips to Alaska that he hated. Then again, he'd been in isolation for many years, and the the Portal Incident had in fact transported him far, far from home.

"They call in Skyrim...well, that...uh...woman called it Skyrim at least. I wasn't aware of any hidden countries." He replied.

He'd imagined the cube if it had hands, expressing themselves in a scientists fashion.

"Must be pretty high above sea level if it snows all the time. They're like vikings no?" The Cube questioned.

Doug blinked. "Yeah...Vikings...and their stupid pointy helmets. This isn't going to be like Asterix is it?"

"Nobody here looks jolly and fat. Looks like the artist got it wrong then?" The Cube said with a deadpan tone.

Their thick accents varied. But one thing was for sure, what surprised him...were anthro, walking, talking cats! And Lizards!

"Am I in some sort of land where the She's testing me maybe? Somehow fused Man and Cat. And Man and Lizard."

"Theoretically, she's nowhere to be seen or heard. And testing? Out doors? That's a new one." The Cube said sarcastically.

He'd tried entering the big castle known as the College, but his lack of knowledge in magic prevented him from entering and finding answers. There had to be a way in without going in that direction. Like a secret passage from behind, infiltrating dungeons, it'd be like the old days escaping Her traps and testing chambers. There was experience from that, that would come in handy indeed. Besides, it was maybe like Hogwarts? Maybe She simulated something from the Harry Potter books?

"Nah we're not in that part of Europe." Said the Cube.

"You've read the books Dougy boy, you know it's not the answer."

He rubbed his head. He'd sat that, with his knees upward, elbows leaning against them. No...this was a new type of Fantasy he'd seen. Another theory was Time Travel. Although, there was nothing in Apertures books or data that mentioned Time Trials, except for those old Chamber Description books that mentioned the possibility of meeting yourself from another time. That was tested and put to rest as a paranoia and was declared nonsense. Something he was very much familiar with.

His schizophrenia had been playing up as well. His vision was blocked by strange bars at the bottom of his sight. One blue, one red and one green. It wasn't cataracts, but instinctively, he felt where North, South, East and West where, like he was an inborn Compass. He compared it to a Heads Up Display he'd commonly seen in test subjects with cameras attached to them. Now he had one himself?

"That could come in handy in the future you know. Especially the top bar with the marker on it...it'll tell you where you need to go, and will grow when you get closer to it." The Cube explained.

Doug's head swung to it. "What? How does that work? None of this is logical at all! Where's my medication when I need it!"

"Relax...maybe some Cabaret dancers will cheer you up."

At that moment, the ground disappeared beneath Doug, the wheat had shrunk, and an entire theater had slid around him in that moment, Doug sitting up top of the red stairs, as a whole bunch of Companion Cubes with arms, womanly legs with black thigh high stockings and high heels, a hat and a black cane stood in line, giving some kind of random dance that Doug stared at it blankly, as random jazzy piano music started playing, the dancing Companion Cubes standing in a line, waving their arms and legs about, with one dancer's high heel flinging off her foot and hitting Doug on the forehead, sending him flying, left him unamused, but didn't bother getting off the floor, instead he rubbed his forehead where the shoe had hit him.

"Of course. I feel compelled to join them." He said sarcastically.

"But unfortunately that isn't going to help me at all."

The Stage disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving Doug in an isolated room with a lot of dull white walls, with texters scattered everywhere. As therapeutic as that might be to him, he wasn't taking it.

"You love drawing! Always puts you in the mood!" The Cube said enthusiastically, dropping from some round apparatus above. Doug didn't budge.

"No..."

This was indeed a depressing situation he had found himself in. Again, his own mind needed to sort things out, if he wanted to survive.

"I'm sure the Harbinger will help you out. After all, she saved your life...again." The Cube said, the last part sounding a little forced.

"And besides, since when was anything based on logic?"

Doug nodded in agreement. "You have a point there. So first problem at hand. I have to find you. I have no idea where you are."

He started putting mental theories to the test. Last location was Winterhold and the only placed had hadn't checked was the college. If his insanity didn't play up and his survival instincts on full throttle, he could climb the side of the support pillar of the College. It would be tedious, almost impossible. Then again, after what he'd seen, it might as well BE possible. He wrote down what he needed to climb it, some mountain climbing gear would be nice, and some warm clothes. Rope? Need a lot of it. Ice Axes...well, from what this place had, that won't be too hard to get a hand on.

He became deep in thought of what needed to infiltrate the college. The Cube laughed, Doug snapping out of concentration, and glared at it.

"I'm trying to save you here and you're laughing at my efforts?" He berated.

"The Harbinger mentioned being a Student of the College. Have you ever thought to try and ask her to get inside?"

It clicked, he tried to recall something she'd said in her rant...

A dragon came into vision after the room and the walls started to fall apart, and the white floor sunk into the dirt below, as the skies quickly filled with gray clouds and a heavy snowstorm that came out of nowhere. He could see the Harbinger digging the Horker Tusk into the Dragons neck

"I am also a STUDENT of the COLLEGE OF WINTERHOLD!" She yelled.

Doug stood up. "Of course! Yes...I will have to find her and ask her!"

* * *

"I will have to find her and ask her!" He said, sitting up.

"Ask what?" Said a familiar voice.

Doug scanned the area. He was in a small offset room, which looked like a bedroom, with some brown cupboards, tall and some small desk drawers, a filled book shelf, candles and random items that he sort of recognized from the shop he'd been into before. Looking down, he could see his scrawny legs poking through the green bedsheets, his feet popping out at the end, but not uncovered. The walls were made of a blue stone, with a bright light seeping through the open entrance, coming from a strange well. He rubbed his head and grabbed hold of the bed-sheet with both hands, bring it close to his chin.

"Ask uh..." He said, shivering. Oh no...where was he? He didn't know where he was? Was She up to her tricks again? Why won't she ever stop to-

"Are you referring to me Milk Drinker?"

He gulped, his adams apple taking a dip. Turning to his right, he saw the Dragonborn in a chair, all cleaned up, leaning back with her arm over the back of it, crossed legs and adorning a smile, reading a book.

"Uh...yeah..." Doug said, uncertainty in his breath.

He examined again, her stillness freaking him out. She'd changed clothes, into some red robes, her hood dangling at the back. Doug wasn't sure if he'd preferred the blood lusting Harbinger that slew a Dragon, or the dark, near calm assassin that threatened to kill him. Both saved his life, however. One was brutal the other...listened. She wore a gold tiara on her head that held a large red jewel in the middle, near the rising tip, with two smaller red jewels beside it. He was beginning to think, whether or not...she had a...disorder like him.

"So, you gonna pop a question or what? I'm waiting." She said, her smirk starting to fade.

Doug just fumbled over his words, then cleared his throat and started again.

"I heard you screaming you were a Student of the College. Is this correct?" He asked.

The Dragonborn nodded. "Mhmm...the College offers me magic and shelter." She answered. An answer as good as any.

Good. Glad that was figure out nice and easy. On to the next question.

"Great. Now, I was going to ask you if you could take me in there. I have the slightest hunch that my friend is here."

The Dragonborn closed her book and laid her head back, resting her eyes. Doug still believed the serene expression she carried was creepy. Her aura wasn't charged, but something that he himself could attune to. It became a rather awkward feeling from his point.

"A hunch huh? A strike of pain in your gut says they're in here?" The Dragonborn questioned.

Dougs eyes darted around as he scratched his scruffy head.

"Yes! That's what the Bandits said!" Doug reiterated. "My gut just happens to support that theory!"

"Good enough." Said the Dragonborn. "However, I'm afraid I can't let you in."

Doug's eyes widened. Good enough and yet, still not allowed access? He was beginning to think he should just leave and acquire the gear. He throw the sheet off him and sat on the edge of the bed. She'd taken off his tattered lab coat and threw over a nearby hook, leaving him with his white pants, socks and light blue top. The Dragonborn placed the book down and gave a quick look at a long piece of black cloth that she held up in her hands, that was wide, then expanded towards the end, before head diagonally to connect at the end. Sniffing it, she was repulsed by the smell of it.

"What is this thing? Have you been eating Mudcrabs? Euch!" She said, disgusted. Doug snatched the cloth from her, surprising her at the least.

"It's called a Tie." He said, a little peeved. He then had a glance on the tiara on her forehead. "What's that? Are you a Princess as well?"

She smirked, amused, watching him wrap the tie around his neck, playing with it and tying it into a very interesting knot.

"Nope. It's a a fine piece of necessary enchanted jewellery. Sold the dragon-bones to the local shop, bought a second hand Gold and Ruby circlet. Needed one of these...but eventually, I'll enchant my own..." She explained, showing the golden book, before placing it beside her.

"It enhances my Destruction power...it's called the Circlet of Destruction. I know, original. But it lets' you know what my main magic usage is. And keeps hair out of my face."

Doug grumbled. She wasn't helping. He didn't care who she was for the moment, other than needed to get into the College. He was going to get in with or without her help. He shot up from his bed, and scanned for his shoes. The Dragonborn wore a bemused expression. His head dipped around, looking for them.

"I thought they were very...fascinating...pretty leather shoes. You must be a great smith." She commented, albeit with a mixture of sarcasm and comical drops.

Doug grumbled and snatched his shoes from one of the cupboards, shoving them on his feet and hastily tying them. If she wasn't going to help him now then so be it. Unhooking his tattered lab coat, he placed his arms in the sleeves and begun to walk off, but was stopped by a random fire ball that clashed with the stone wall behind him.

"Where do you think you're going?" She said, looking at him with a deceptive smile and some flames in her left hand. His pinkish nose twitched.

"Where else? Going to the College. I've got a plan all worked up on how to get in there by myself. I understand you might have some protocol forbidding non-students or staff from entering. Trust me, that is normal. But if you're not going to explain the situation for me I can do it myself!" He declared.

The Dragonborn leaned on the armrest of the chest, biting her lip as she smiled. A single glimpse into her eyes allowed him to read her. Her intent wasn't malicious. If anything, despite her attitude, the aura around her was genuine, cheeky, but full of life. An old thought from before passed by, evolving with wonders If he could test her resolve, send her through proper scientific examinations, blood tests, checking her tenacity. The guess would be, the resulting stubbornness would rival the one he tried to save. And forever prayed that he succeeded...

His mind tried to trail back towards the end days, everything was such a blur after being shot by a turret and almost bleeding to death. He'd indeed needed company and his own insanity to cope...

But after meeting and seeing what this woman could do, what was schizophrenia being compared to?. After all, this entire time he could be having an episode and there was no way of knowing if he didn't have any meds left...this new sense of his was bothering him greatly.

"I mentioned the College offers magic and room...use your reason and logic and work out that sentence...idiot." She teased.

Doug blinked and looked around. The Architecture was well structured, dark but sensible with the hint of a magical sparkle in the air, seeing the odd light in the middle of a while, forming a growing pillar of light up a chimney like hole to the top. He wandered over to it, pondering it's nature. It held it's warmth against his face, it's illuminating features non-lethal.

"This...is magic?" Doug muttered, placing his hands on the edge of the well-fence.

The Dragonborn appeared beside him. "Yes. Have no idea what the magic is...but what's important is that it's magic." She explained.

Doug lifted his head. That way she'd formed that sentence was...disturbingly unbridled. He lowered his head.

"This is the College." He pointed out, his voice almost a whisper as a response to his realization.

The Dragonborn smirked and crossed her arms. "Yeah of course...come on, I gotta go the Arch Mages room for some...weird reason." She continued. "Some guy claiming he's from the Psijic Order said he wants to see me. I told them I was going to wait for you to wake up."

Doug's eyebrows dove. "What? Why? I could have handled being asleep you know, you're not my mother." He refuted.

The Dragonborn shrugged, looking away. "There's a unwritten rule around here about sleeping in other peoples beds. You were most likely going to be killed by some student, and they were going to accuse you of stealing my bed...with you, unable to explain how you got here...GEEZ SHOW A LITTLE APPRECIATION..." She roared.

As odd as it were, Doug had no idea of whether she was just lying and obliging the fact she wanted to protect him in general or was just forcibly making them wait to spite them in her own fun. Actually, now that he looked at it, that latter part seemed like something the Dragonborn would do.

But since she was seeing...some Arch Mage, now could be the time to start asking questions as the Opportunity started presenting itself.

"Hurry up, I haven't got all day!" The Dragonborn moaned. Doug was going to take forever to figure this woman out.

Going out of the Hall of Attainment as the Harbinger called it, they eventually entered into the College Courtyard. The statue that was sitting behind the light well in the middle had been damaged in the battle, from Doug's brief recollection of events. The dragon's skeleton spread out Some students stood around it, muttering to each other. Doug wondered who was going to pay for the repairs.

The Courtyard was round, a small sheltered walkway surrounded it. Snow forever fell from above...like it had before. But the dragon in the middle caught his attention. Where in science does it say life forms deteriorate that quickly? Perhaps their organic substance was radically different to most sentient beings. It had be literally picked to the bone. Was the Dragon of a supernatural nature? And why was there energy transferring to the Harbinger? It was a bright, whitish energy that filtered to her, and she was in the form to accept this energy. Could he harness this himself? This world made no sense to him, it was far too cold, where magic was real and Dragons rot immediately and somehow people can absorb their energy, a world with bipedal cats and lizards, and dark skinned elves and raging women. Who in their right mind would mold such a world? Although that raging women thought...that was normal.

He looked at the Harbinger as she casually walked down the pathway. Her stride seemed...confident, strong and very sturdy underneath her Apprentice Robes, but it held a step in arrogance. She was like, two different people. One was the calm, respectful...to a point, intelligent and resolute. The other, beserking, hulking, shouting, hard hitting and extremely brutal and violent, that loved to watch others bleed at her hand. The image of her, screaming at the dragons torn, dying, wailing in agony as she'd stabbed through it's head. There was a sense of hatred, bloodlust in her eyes, something that shouldn't be in with her colour that's coerced with softness and kindness. The blood splattering on her armor, the fierceness that she annihilated her foes with.

He himself, while not a coward in the predominant sense, could only avoid fights and find ways to save lives instead if he could. With the power of his scientific brain, he could win battles through intelligence and use of words of wisdom. After all, such bravery had saved the woman he'd dare to put through Her tests.

They'd come across arching double doors. According to some local mages that he'd seen and overheard at the Frozen Hearth, this area was the Hall of the Elements, where classes were held. Inside held a small area with doors on both side, ahead of the steel gates was another, large, dark round room with a glowing, green, almost pulsating and runic orb floating on the light well. He stared at it with awe. He tried opening his mouth to ask, but his gaze was forced away by a tall, thinly looking man with a golden tinge to his skin, his white hair slicked back and pointy ears, his choice of wear unusual, black clothing that had a slight spiky theme but had no spikes themselves. Elves...he thought.

"About time you came." He said, his tone quite pissed off.

"Quickly, he's up stairs."

The Dragonborn brushed him off. "Yeah yeah I'm coming, I'm coming..." She muttered.

Doug stood behind the Harbinger as she and this strange elf entered the wooden doors to the left, apparently heading to the Arch Mages climbing the stairs was another room, round, which gave thought to whether they liked their rooms round or it was some kind of tradition to the Mages. A Garden lay in the middle of the room, completely with a single tree that had some greenish glowing mushrooms that had grown on it, lit with three white orbs that lit the area. Where was gravity by the way?

A man stood in front of the garden, wrapped in light brown robes and had his hood on. Doug's envision of him was one of mysteriousness and held a firm eye on the Harbinger. He stood there as they embroiled conversation, trying to make sense of it all. Another man stood there in black robes, but they looked different from what the others were wearing, making Doug believe he was cementing a type of importance. From their conversing he learned this was the Arch Mage, Savos Aren. The man in the light brown robes was Quaranir, and the elf, Ancano.

Doug blinked, curious to this...kind of thing. It was much like politics in that regard, that the terminology was close to scientific if he focused hard enough. It came clear that Quaranir held an unclear aura about him, adding to the mysterious tone to his frame. There was a shifting click, not audible but felt within Doug's mind. To his surprise, Quaranir had left without saying much at all. Doug wasn't the only feeling this way, as Ancano and the Arch-Mage are left surprised by his subtle helpless words. He walked out of the Quarters, Ancano left grumbling to the Arch-Mage, before storming out.

Savos approached the Harbinger and engaged in another conversation as Doug's mind drifted away from their rabble, becoming deep in contemplation, trying to theorize the physics that this world held again. His common excuse for events that made no scientific sense or just wasn't supported by common physics sense was the magic that was used. Even then, it looked like it was just the equviliant.

"This is Doug Rattmann. He's actually looking for a friend of his, that says was sold to someone here in Winterhold. I was wondering uh...Doug?" Said the Harbinger.

Doug's sights set on her. "Hmmm?" He muttered.

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes, wishing that he paid more attention.

"What was your friends description?" She asked.

Doug gulped. Unsure if he wanted them to know or he couldn't remember.

"Well, its's my friend...but none of you would obviously understand the uh...complications of my friends appearance..." He said, nervous in tone.

The Arch-Mage crossed his arms, then looked at the Dragonborn with an unimpressed expression.

"You haven't been talking to Tolfdir haven't you?" Savos wondered.

The Dragonborn brows took a dive as she grew confused.

"What? No...I have no idea what you're getting at sir." She commented.

Savos returned his look to Doug.

"Sorry...I'm sure if you'd describe them for me, I might be able to help you." He said, resting his hands on his hips as he shifted his weight.

Doug nodded.

"Uh..yes...you see...it's like...actually..it's a Giant...cube." He stuttered.

The Dragonborn blinked. What?

"A...cube...like a box?" She questioned, trying to get her head around on what he meant.

Doug started to get shaky. This must have been something completely odd and foreign to them.

"Uh...yeah...it's mainly gray, about this big and has a heart on each side." He continued to explain.

A subtle silence filled the void as the Dragonborn and the Arch-Mage gave each other brief looks.

This guy...had a box...for a friend. And she thought she was mad and random. Or at least, others seem to think so.

"I don't really care what you guys think of me when I say I really need it back and the fact that I call a box a good friend of mine. But I don't think any of you would know of the mental illnesses I have...but...trust me on this." He pleaded. He sounded really genuine too.

Savos didn't know what to think. Neither did the Dragonborn.

"I truly believe you belong in the pits of the Ratway, with all the other mad men and women shackled down there if a mental illness serves you with this...box." He said, showing his disdain.

 "Hey Arch-Mage it might not be all in his head. Could be a Daedric Artifact?" The Dragonborn suggested.  She thought it was quite rude of the Arch-Mage to comment as such, as she found herself defending Doug.

"Such an unusually described item may match that case young Apprentice. In fact, I think I saw it down in the Midden just yesterday. I had to head down there for academic purposes." Savos said as he lifted his head.

Of course he did.

"Yeah yeah sir. So...permission to go to the Midden then?" The Dragonborn asked.

The Arch-Mage became deep in thought with that sentence.

"Hmm...not at the moment. You have great ambition to become a great Mage yourself, I can clearly see that..." He said.

"Buuuuut..." The Dragonborn tried to drag it over.

"An old friend has become...quiet hostile down there. He usually is more calm and protective. But his magic has flooded the dungeons, making it increasingly difficult to access without being affected." Savos warned.

She'd be willing to try, but unwarranted magics were not to be trifled with.

"Want me to do anything about it?" She offered.

Savos shook his head. "I can deal with it. He might calm down over time. This wouldn't be the first time he's acted up. You may have to wait a little while longer." He told them.

The Dragonborn bowed to the Arch-Mage. "As you say sir." She said, although slightly annoyed.

Doug tried to make out a mental image of this old friend that Savos spoke of. Judging by what the Arch-Mage had mentioned, he seemed quite powerful, that there might have been a reason for his isolation within the College Dungeons. Nonetheless, he wasn't going anywhere unless his beloved Cube was going to be returned.

* * *

 

The Dragonborn lead Doug downstairs into a Library of sorts called the Arcanaeum. This looked like a haven, where Doug could read up all the history of this strange land and focus on where he could go after he'd gotten the Cube back. Books on shelves, tables, chairs and even some scattered on the floor. Looks like the Librarian hasn't been doing their job...or some students are just incredibly lazy.

He listened to the Dragonborn converse with the Orc behind the desk at the back of the room. An Orc? Like, a Warcraft Orc? Man this place was crawling with such fantastical treasures, pretty, powerful and ugly. He was beginning believe he was truly off his meds and began to fear it so. Too many games and too much reading gave him one hell of an imagination.

Next, they'd returned to the Hall of the Elements, and headed into the class area. Tolfdir, a tutor in the works of magic, as the Harbinger called out his name, a beared fellow. Doug stood from afar, watching their every move.

"So any progress on that meteor I gave you?" Asked the Dragonborn.

Tolfdir rubbed his hands all over it.

"Hang on a second you only gave it to me a few hours ago. However, it's nothing like I'd ever seen. It's quite remarkable...astonishing even." He said, almost in awe.

"Did it say anything?" The Dragonborn wondered. This thing wouldn't shut up even if it's life depended on it...or was at least threatened with being bured alive.

"Rambled on about Space, just as you said." Tolfdir responded. "It may not look like it, but I'm sure this might be related to the Dwemer. I know the colouring and the materials are drastically different but it's function, the way it moves and works is in very similar accordance to the schematics that the Dwarves had used."

In a way, yes.

"But this thing had fallen from the Sky. Do you think they'd launched it up into Space hundreds of years ago and it suddenly came back down?" She wondered.

Tolfdir motioned them to follow him to a secluded study area next to the Hall.

"A theory like that might be as close to the truth as we can get. But I am no true expert on the Dwemer. I recommend trying Calcemo in Markarth. He's worked on Dwemer Ruins for most of his life." He suggested.

This other area was hidden by a magical wall. The Dragonborn hadn't noticed it before, nor did she realize such a place existed. But, again, there were in a school of magic. Doug was just reminded of Harry Potter again when Tolfdir approached the wall and casted a random spell. The extra room was filled with desks, magical potions and artifacts that were scattered across, with books and the like all jumbled up in between. Tolfdir approached the frontmost desk and picked up the red box and gave it to the Dragonborn.

"I pray you have better luck with Calcemo. If anyone could figure it out, he can. Be careful out there."

* * *

They walked back to the Dragonborns quarters, while Doug was utterly curious of what was inside the big red wooden box that she carried, that seemed to measure as the same size as her torso, if not slightly smaller. He could question, but he need to wait until the thing in the dungeons was cleared then they could finally get the cube. That's all he could think about at this point.

Once inside, the Dragonborn placed the box on the bed and stared at it. Doug sat down on the chair and slouched over, rubbing his eyes, running his fingers through his hair and sighed. The Dragonborn smirked.

"Cheer up. It's not like your "friend" is going to die anytime soon." She chuckled, still in disbelief that he talked to a box.

Doug gave a breath of defeat.

"It's not the point. For what it was, it helped me through some tough, lonely times." He told her, his voice low.

Yes...indeed...running through the tormenting gauntlet of test chambers, evaded Her every way he could, barely surviving on tin cans of food, and painting murals on the walls in the event that someone would come across and succeed where he had failed. He held his over, then at the corner of his eye watched the Harbinger grab something from the shelf.

"Think quick." She said.

He managed to catch a sudden object that was thrown to him, a brownish bottle.

"Honningbrew Mead. Cures for what ails ya." The Dragonborn claimed. She had her own bottle, as he stared at her, watching closely as she popped off the cork on the bottle and sipped some of it down, breathing out in satisfaction.

"Better than that Black-Briar Crap that's sold everywhere." She commented. Her eyes darted to the fact that he hadn't even opened his yet.

"So Milk-Drinker, ya gonna sit there feeling sorry for yourself or drink like a man. Sheesh it's not like it's rat poison."

Doug contemplated. If anything, this reminded him of the Medieval ages. Sterility was most likely not much a given thought in those days, not to mention basic sanitary measures. But she seemed adamant that he was going to drink it. So he gave in and popped the bottle open.

"There we go...now take a sip. I'm guessin' you haven't had much before if you're so...hesitant." The Dragonborn commented.

No he's had alcohol before. Just...none like this. His doctors advised against drinking with his medication, but taking into consideration that he basically had none left to take, he could start again.

He lifted up the bottle and inserted the top into his mouth, then lifted it. He allowed the mead to pass his lips, his tongue, then swallow it. Taking it out of his mouth, it was pretty much like a drink of beer, except much sweeter. It was, not half bad in that case. Judging by their technologies, there wasn't much in terms of the chemicals that were inserted to make it last longer or look a more appealing colour. They would have used more natural ingredients to allow the taste to be at it's optimum. More organic really.

"Good?" The Dragonborn asked, walking around and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Doug nodded, tilting his head around.

"It's alright. It'll do for now." He said, although it appeared that he still wasn't sure.

The Dragonborn laughed. Perhaps he was subtlety impressed.

"Out for some better stuff eh? What kind of drinks did they make where you come from?" She asked out of curiosity.

Beer...wine...spirits. He'd tasted a few and drunk a bit at work dos they had at the lab. Intoxication was left to College. Not that he wanted to get be intoxicated for that matter. He had his fair share in his youth. But now...as a middle aged man, he wasn't sure where life would lead. Staring down the bottle, transit thoughts progressed towards a future he couldn't possibly know of.

"I like Wine. There are some great wineries from my hometown. Then when I was old enough I moved into big city to study at College. Had a lot of beer." He said, still recalling the peer pressure.

The Dragonborn lifted her head and squinted at him.

"Beer?" She queried.

More like frat boy's juice, either way.

"Very similar to your...mead I suppose...or ale." Doug iterated. "It's custom, usually, for College students to have a lot of parties and drink a lot."

The Dragonborns lips lifted into a smiled.

"Really? What kind of College was this?" She wondered.

He tapped the neck of the bottle. Would she understand?

"It wouldn't be like this College...only the true...well, what we call Nerds would absolutely love to study in a place like this." He said.

"Nerds? Bah...sound like a bunch of Milk-Drinking freaks if you ask me." The Dragonborn commented.

To an extent, depending on the ones you hung out with.

"Some were...some weren't. Most of em ended up in very prestigious jobs and universities." He continued.

The Dragonborn sniffed and scratched her eyebrow. What in Oblivion was a University? He imagined she'd be thinking that for sure.

"So...do you guys have like, schools...anything in particular where you go study just...you know, not magic..?" Doug inquired.

The Dragonborn took another swig and gushed it around her mouth before swallowing.

"We learn from our parents and caretakers the basics of living. One of the first things we learn is that Skyrim is a harsh and unforgiving land. Only the toughest can survive. So as long as you can wield a blade in battle, you have a far greater chance of living than if you're just some beggar on the streets." She explained.

Doug took another sip. "So you don't know math...or learn how to read..."

The Dragonborn leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

"You learn that in your own time. If you want to study, go visit the other provinces or better hope in Oblivion that your own parents can afford to teach you. As such, most of the intelligent people are always the richest ones." She said.

This wasn't far from the truth, although from his land, you don't have to have an insane IQ, you just had to have enough will, cunning, strength and tenacity to make it through life.

"The College here for the study of magic. But I guess some of the more complicated magics need a bit of math. Per say, alchemy and enchanting for example." The Dragonborn continued.

They continued muttering for several hours, with intricate discussions in education, landmass and probable things. From Dougs words alone, she was astounded at the place he live in, with technologies she'd never heard of, such as Televisions or Computers. If anyone would have invented that it would have been the Dwemer...then the Aldmeri Dominion would have gotten their dirty hands all over their technology. Or the other, highly political and desire for more power factions and guilds that existed in Tamriel.

* * *

 

She couldn't remember how much he had drank in those few hours, but he managed to keep babbling on about some place he worked at before he came here, a massive facility that imprisoned him for years due to AI breakdown, killing hundreds of people, and he was one of the few survivors of the event. Well, at least she could give him that, given the circumstances that her mind couldn't even comprehend, with the mention of a Neurotoxin and Artificial Intelligence...his buzzwords went straight over her head. Two drinks later, his words began to slur and merge together, with incessant babbling and incoherent sentences, as well as his nose becoming slighter more pink. And he was still a bit of a weakling.

"Promish me something Harbinger." Doug rabbled.

"Yes?" The Dragonborn said, highly amused by his drunken antics.

"Can...can you teach me how...well, how to fight? I could be less of a  **burden**  to you that way...you know, with the swords and the  **cutting**  and the slicing and the shouting the heads off  **Dragons**...that sort of fantasy nonsense." He requested. Such an odd question too.

The Dragonborn chuckled. "I could teach you to use a blade. Maybe a shield. I don't know about the shouts however..."

"Pffff...you can do it...surely I...I can?" He pointed out, waving his bottle about. The Dragonborn confiscated it, and placed on the the bedside table and rested her hand on his shoulder, giving him a stern look of concern.

"I'm sure you can do a lot of things. Shouting just happens to be the most complicated skill to learn. Especially for you." She told him.

Doug shot up from his chair, shaking his fist.

"I am Doug Rattmann...I have faced death over and over again. I have, survived being shot by turrets, neurotoxined to death by a crazy AI, saved from bandits AND avoided being eaten by a Dragon...how many people...can—cansay that they have been KIDNAPPED...by a-aman eating dragon and LIVED to tell the tale...hmm? HMM?" He roared.

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Okay you've made your point. Perhaps at some stage I can take you to the Greybeards. I can imagine for you however...that even the trip up their will be some kind of test for you..." She said as she played along.

Doug stumbled forward, his right foot slipping forward but stomping down to maintain his stance with both legs apart, albeit a bit wobbly.

"TEST? I can handle any test you throw at me...I can...find a way around it. Because that's...that's was me...the TEST SUBJECT...you know how hard it w-was for meeee? She drove me insane! But my plan worked! All because I had a hunch! They thought, because of my illness, that I was talking nonsense...NOW LOOK WHO'S STILL ALIVE?" He babbled.

This was more amusing than she had expected.

"Yes yes...I get the picture. You're very resourceful. You know who likes resourceful people? The Thieves Guild...and the Dark Brotherhood. So you must learn to watch yourself...they have eyes and ears everywhere." She warned, albeit feeling playful.

Doug brushed it off. "Hah! Let them come to me. Actually, get them to seal me in a room...I will find my way out...you watch." He said, sneering.

The Dragonborn subtly shook her head.

"We'll see..."

He became a bit wobbly again as he felt his head become a bit woozy. Suddenly he fell forward, with the Dragonborn managing to catch his body in her arms. She shifted as he began to snore heavily. She couldn't help but smile. Like before, she dragged him on the bed and took off his shoes and pushed him under the blanket to let him sleep, after she had taken the box off the bed and opened it.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! There you are! Was wonderin' where you were. Why'd you leave me with that man? He wasn't taken me to space!" Space complained.

The Dragonborn took off her circlet and placed it in her cupboard.

"We're getting closer to that..." She replied.

"Good...good...good. Cause...cause...I detected something...it wasn't space...but but..." He stated, then grew cautious.

She hadn't had him back for a few hours and he always had something to say.

"Alright sleep time now..." She said with a bated breath, closing the box, shutting him up. She only wanted to know if Tolfdir had done anything with it. But as long as he continued speak about Space, nothing was going to change. She got changed back into her regular armor and thought out her next move thoroughly, whilst watching Doug mumble in his sleep.

"Heh...such a Milk Drinker..." She joked.


	4. Caves and Morons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug gets educated about the world and magic around him through practical lessons, but ends up finding something he'd expect to find close to home.

 

Thoughts crossed the her mind about the challenges they would face. Doug, an untrained weirdo wasn't hardened to the extremities that Skyrim offered. His body was weak and feeble, not to mention quite fragile in mind. The land that he described was more akin to the similarities of the Dwemer, if not more dangerous. This...facility as he so called it had many laid traps within it's design, making the Dragonborn wonder what treasures lay on the other side. Something valuable that he must have originally had to protect or to maintain, as he mentioned hundreds of catwalks that he'd tread, keeping an eye on...test subjects? Those who could...test to ensure the security of this facility? Protected by things called...turrets. Say didn't Space mention something about them?

It was very off though. Though it would have been funny to think of Doug as the last of the Dwemer, it could give the Dragonborn herself interesting advantages, especially if they were going to meet Calcemo. Actually, the possibility of Doug not realizing his true kind became more fact than fiction in that regard. But...of course it didn't add up in several cases. Where the Dwemer were encased in their gold-tone with the mixture of an emerald green aesthetics, Doug was more...white...pure. Calcemo would definitely help in that department she was sure.

Then came the fact she still had to go to the tomb underneath Azura's Shrine. Doug wasn't ready to face the dreaded Draugr that became far too imminent. He was still asleep, had been for several hours. The Dragonborn walked around the College and Winterhold itself, before returning back inside to read more about enchanting. She'd already informed the Arch-Mage to contact her if the situation in the Midden became better or much, much worse. But she offered the task of heading into the Tomb where Jo'Amal had met his fate. The Arch-Mage was reluctant, but after explaining her situation and her ties to the Companions, he believed that she would be more than capable of exploring it herself. Though warned her not to be careless when wandering around it.

By this time she'd already popped herself into her steel armor, fitting nice and firmly. Space was out, at least to give her someone to talk to, regardless if they never stopped talking about their favourite subject. She'd given two septims to her thought into whether she should bring it with them.

"So Space..." She started, flipping a page. She sounded tired, but was really just playing apathetic.

"You ready to go into some caves?"

Space shook. The Dragonborn had placed his box on the desk next to her.

"Caves? Caves? Hmmmm...no...nonono they're not space." It replied.

She could hear Doug mumbling in his sleep, otherwise he looked peaceful enough. She tucked him in to the blanket some more, pulling it up above his shoulders. His skin...might as well have been whiter than your average Nord, but his nose was pink.

"Warm...warm...don't need it for Space. Space is cold!" Space muttered.

Rolling her eyes, the Dragonborn leaned back to keep reading. Although, she wondered if training wasn't such an entirely bad idea after all. From the enchanting book she was reading, she could possibly enchant some armor for cold resistance. Or what ever. When he woke up, it was time to get to work.

* * *

A few days had passed by. During this time the Dragonborn had begun to analyze her plans and brought herself to train Doug on the top of the College halls, a simple tower with a flat top, where they would be in seclusion and could work in safety. She'd taken him to the Arcaeneum to let him study some basic defensive spells, such as Wards. She herself knew these for her own practical purposes rather than the for the greater good of study. She figured this would be the best way for him, just in case he was caught without any sort of defensive physical shield. It took time even to cast the simplest spell for him, however. A simple, flame spell was what they were focusing on at first. Forming a flame in ones hand took concentration, but became natural to those who used it often.

"There's a saying where I come from. Practice makes perfect." Doug iterated. She could tell he was quite nervous with this, with much worry if he'd burned himself. The Dragonborn repeatedly displayed the technique to him. It came so easy for her and everyone else at the College. After all, the College only let in the Naturals. He stood on one side and she on the other, watching his every move, her eyes fixated on his cold, bare hands. Her eyes would wander back into her book, her ears listening in to his struggling grunts. Doug's hands were in a sort of cupped position, fingers curled as he forced a strain on himself. The Dragonborn sighed, with time and time again she had mentioned 'calming down', to let the magicka flow within his blood stream, to let the magicka in the air influence his energies.

"I wasn't born to cast magic..." He said, feeling a little crushed inside. "Maybe you could teach me how to use a sword and shield instead?"

The Dragonborn grumbled, stabbing her blade into the crack of the blackened bricks.

"No." She said calmly. "Didn't you want to wait until we could get your...'friend' out of the Midden?"

Doug could hear the rather, humoured tone behind her voice in that sentence. That was normal for him.

"I do! I do! But..." He murmured.

The Dragonborn lowered her book, giving him her seething eyes. Doug responded with a gulp.

"Okay okay...uhh let's just keep trying then right?" She suggested, although exasperated by his cowardice.

She knew he was paranoid. There was a shaking within that wasn't brought from the wind of Skyrim. A fear brewed constantly, and untamingly that it was astounding he still kept himself together as he did. But the fact he was trying was a bonus! But his fear was making him hesitant. She had to do something.

Putting the book down, the Dragonborn stood up.

"GET UP!" She yelled.

Doug fumbled as he tried to shoot up from where he was sitting. "Yes?" He said, voice cracking.

He was put an unease as her smile turned wicked.

"Your mothers so fat and hairy, that the Giants tried to milk her for her cheese!" She taunted.

This was random.

"Your mother's so fat and hairy, that the guards mistake her for a pregnant Khajiit!"

Doug was taken aback, browing and rather puzzled by these taunts.

"What are you doing?" He asked. He's heard of these mother jokes but this made no sense.

"Your mother's so fat and hairy, that a Troll tried to get with her!"

Doug's face fell into pure apathy. "Is this really necessary...I mean, for starters my mother isn-"

"Your mother's so dumb, that when she tries to put out the fire, she tries to put it out with her hands."

Doug rubbed his head, but was becoming slightly agitated with her terrible attempt at joking.

"Hey wait a min-"

The Dragonborn continued. His mouth opened to refute her claims, but she consistently rolled the taunts off her tongue, which started to annoy him more with each interruption. His eyes fixated on her flapping mouth as she smirked, with these mom jokes getting more apparently offensive. His eye twitched with rage as she mocked on and on for several minutes. An index finger flexed and contracted as he growled under his breath. He'd had enough.

"ALRIGHT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!" He yelled, pushing his hands forward. A massive spark ignited flames from the palms of his hands, shooting out huge fireballs sent hurtling in her direction, knocking her in the chest and knocked her off the tower. He caught his his breath with an angered expression, which soon faded, eyes widened when he accumulated what he had just done. Doug gasped and bolted to the edge of the battlement, looking over at the body fallen on the snow below.

The Dragonborn lay sprawled across the ground, with Doug biting his fingernails, timid to run but frozen with fear. The tough Nord got up and dusted the snow off her persons and shrugged, rolling her shoulders around and wiggled about to see if any damage was done. Cracking her fingers, she looked up the tower to stare at Doug, who felt a twinge of fear in his stomach.

"Oh geez I am so sorry! Are you alright down there?" He called out to her, hiding behind the battlement.

The Dragonborn simply smiled and gave a thumbs up. She was glad her plan suceeded despite her own minor misfortune.

* * *

It wasn't too long into his strained and strenuous magic training that the Dragonborn realized that Doug didn't like to hurt people. Within getting to know the strange man a little better, she could see him open up to her with his eyes, that several looks was now all in took to see an internal struggle going on. Filled with doubt, fear and the extremities of his illness. She had no qualms letting him sleep in her bed at the College while she found somewhere else to sleep otherwise. But occasionally she wouldn't bother sleeping anyways, since there wasn't much to rest over for obvious reasons. He'd toss, turn and mutter consistently, with the Dragonborn feeling ill over the fact that she was becoming concerned. But it was in his step, the way he approached everything with the unique type of caution, having to double check everything he did, from eating food, meeting J'zargo, whom was the first real Khajiit that he'd met and was mystified by the fact he was talking to a bipedal talking cat. She herself had tasks to do on her own but was greatly entertained by Dougs antics.

The College allowed him to become an Apprentice since the Fireball incident, with several classes being taken allowed him to understand the magical history of Skyrim, as well as taking into account of his randomly increasing interest in the Restoration School, as well as several others to fit in with his pacifist nature. He also took on the role of the Illusion spells more than the intial Destruction Spells and dedicated his studies to less harmful methods of battle, believing he could never forgive himself if he murdered another intelligent being, after almost killing the Dragonborn the other day. Whether this was true cowardice was unknown, but with the incident revolving Her, this was becoming more apparent to him, discovering parts to himself he didn't even know.

More reading in the library allowed him to study the Prophecy of the Dragonborn. He sat in the darkened hall with two candles for light, reading about the heroes who'd taken down the great dragon Alduin, and this...particular character known as the Dragonborn, who's description and abilities got him wondering, especially about the part about, absorbing the soul of a Dragon. Lifting his head, eyebrows darting downwards. Suddenly...it made a bit more sense.

He headed out in the courtyard, he became a bit disorientated when he tried to find the Harbinger herself. Spinning around in circles briefly, he headed towards the Hall before bumping into someone.

"Hey watch it!" Said the Harbinger, her face tight with annoyance, then softened when she saw him.

"Oh it's just you."

Doug nodded frantically, shoving the book into her face, forcing her to look at the cover. Oh dear.

She acted like she didn't care, brushing him off.

"Yeah what about the book? Everyone's read it." She said in a dull tone.

Doug pulled it back and flipped through it's pages. "Some of this makes sense to me now...what I saw the day that Dragon attacked, the supernatural event that I had seen that couldn't be explained by thorough study of science. You're-"

The Harbinger placed her hand on his mouth. "Yeah yeah...look, let's not go bragging this to everyone okay? They know the story. Let's just go someplace where we can talk in private about this alright?"

They returned to the top of one of the College Towers, with the Dragonborn leaning over one of the battlements, looking at the Sea of Ghosts in the distance. She wondered why he hadn't asked her this earlier.

"So you're the Dragonborn hm?" Said Doug. He seemed so analytical, fitting for a forthcoming Mage.

"Yup." She replied simply.

Doug kept flipping through the pages. "So you're some randomized Chosen One. Out of all the people I meet, I had to bump into you?"

The Dragonborn nodded. She'd expected this type of conversation to happen at some point. There was a gentle breeze that played with her hair and gently carressed her cheek, but her eyes were watching the waves hit the sandless shore. The care factor was zero at the moment, but she didn't mind explaining a bit about herself. Nobody seemed to ask anyway.

"Dragonborn...Dovahkiin in the ancient Dragon language. So...those...shouts...you automatically learn them?" He  queried further.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Depends on the way you decide to learn them I suppose. I use Shouts on my enemies of course." She gloated.

Doug nodded. "Yes...okay. So you, how do you?"

"I search the land for Word Walls. For that I need to speak to the Greybeards in order to find out where they are exactly." She explained.

Doug flipped through more pages, but some things weren't telling him exactly what he needed to know.

"Ahh...so you have...uh the Masters of the Voice if I'm not mistaken, discover the location of these...Word Walls...you find them, learn a word and be able to use it?" He pushed on.

She turned around and leaned on the battlement.

"Not exactly. I need to use the Dragon souls power in order to be capable of using the shout. I think they said it's the matter of understanding the word itself. Sure, you can learn the word, that's the easy part. It's...kind of complicated to put into words though, but the best I can say is that the Souls help me learn and...use the shout right away." She said.

Doug thumbed his beard.

"Theoretically, there is a normal way to utilize that ability." He stated.

The Dragonborn shrugged. "The Greybeards aren't Dragonborn themselves but have spent years honing their voice. They had to take time to train themselves to 'understand' the shouts." She explained.

Doug closed the book, kind of now getting what's she's telling him.

"So...for you, it's automatically." He realized. "For others, it takes a certain amount of time to work it through. But I was reading for some sort of destiny for the Dragonborn it takes. A lot of Gods doing this and Gods doing that. You have your work cut out for you."

The Dragonborn crossed her arms and twitched her nose as she sniffed. "Yup...that stuff happens all the time don't worry. I'm a Nord. I can take it."

Doug's eyes darted away with a worrying expression. "I wouldn't let simple racial overconfidence lead you to your downfall. Trust me, I've seen Pride take lives before."

The Dragonborn smirked. "People always seem to confuse pride with idiocy. Not all those will before such a misjudged sin...I was hoping a Milk-Drinker like you would realize that."

Doug grumbled. He still didn't figure out what that meant anyway. He licked his lip briefly before attempting to stand up straight.

"Anyway. I've made the decision that I'm going to help you in your duties. I've been practicing those healing artes so I...may be useful to you." Doug said, his voice trying to be a bit stronger.

The Dragonborn lifted an eyebrow. "Really? What happened to you looking for your Cube Friend?"

Doug tried to clear his voice. "I doubt I would be going anywhere anytime soon. And I hear the Midden hasn't cleared up of the abnormal magic amount down there. So...might as well...you know."

The Dragonborn shrugged. "What ever you choose. Just don't get yourself killed OR get in my way, understand?"

Doug gave a soft smile. "Great. As long as I don't have to kill anybody either."

The Dragonborn grinned. "More for me anyway..."

His decision to stick by her gave her some surprising thoughts, but it was probably for the better anyway. This man was fragile, but learning some crucial spells within the weeks time period would be better for him in case he got into any tight spots. For her, more enchanting was needed. For him, restoration and illusion became two of his better skills, as he also had hinted at giving Conjuration a whirl, however, summoning something was a bit of a scare to him, courage would need to built in order for him to learn to overcome it.

Despite the fact her primary stance was more warrior based, she also delved into the basic important magics with a little bit of stealth in between. The Battlemage, so to speak. For now, in order to prepare Doug for the ill-liked outside world, she would need to prepare his...armor.

She pulled him to her quarters, much to his own confusion and pulled some gauntlets and boots and put them on the bed.

"I've taken the liberty of walking around and asking for favours. Lucky for me, some debts can be repaid with special armor. One of the many hidden customs in Skyrim." Said the Dragonborn, grinning again, making Doug feel uneased.

"I know those clothes of yours...won't do much. But with this...and..."

She pulled out blue robes with a special hood. However the gauntlets and the boots were made of a peculiar metal that Doug couldn't compare elements with. He'd memorized the table well back in...his College but this was really shiny, bendy. It was a gold colour, shiny too but it's texture was a bit far from it. Not to mention despite it sort of being a gold colour, it was sort of off in tone. But they looked nice of enough, the design intriguing him as he examined them, for which they had a bit of a folded and line looked on the ends but the middle had small, hardly see-able curves. The boots were of a similar nature.

"You're not a Nord. So I enchanted the Elven Gauntlets and the Elven Boots with defensive...properties? I think that's what the book said." She explained. "But these should be okay...once we find better armor, I'll let you know."

Doug looked at her. "So these weren't the best you could find?" He berated unknowingly.

She glared at him, then picked the clothes up. "Fine then...if you think you'd rather be in those tatty disgusting clothes then by all means..."

Doug shook his head. "No-no...I'll wear them."

"What's in that box by the way?"

The Dragonborn had decided to finally head to the tomb underneath Azura's Shrine. Doug seemed adamant and sure of his healing spells that finally earned the Dragonborns confidence. However, it wasn't quite all of it, as they hadn't been properly tested, in the heat of a serious battle. He didn't look too bad in his robes and was noticeably warmer for it. Didn't stop the tip of his nose from being pink however, but that was a part of his unusual character that amused the Dragonborn. The gauntlets and the boots fitted quick nice and firm, otherwise she herself had gone back to her normal steel armor. They'd arrived at the entrance to the town as the Dragonborn placed the big red box on Kodlaks back.

"Oh...just something I have to take to Markarth eventually. It's important but it's not." She replied.

Doug nodded. "Ah. Garnering something to your Dragonbornish destiny is it?"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "No...just a discovery. Nothing to do with Dragons."

Doug seemed cautious but still curious. "Can I look at it?"

The Dragonborn shook her head. "Nah...don't want people trying to blow it up again."

Doug's eyes might as well belonged to a puppy the way he looked at her.

"I said no. Now hop on...I don't want another word out of you."

Doug felt odd as he sat on the back of Kodlak, gritting his teeth in a type of nerve as he wrapped his arms around the Dragonborns waist. This was not the normal situation he would find himself in as she whacked the straps on the horse, them treading the frozen pathways of Winterhold. Snowing, as always made it hard to figure out what time of day it was. Looking out the sides, he was amazed some plants bothered to grow in this harsh weather. Although he'd read that they were Snowberries, as there were similar to the ones he had seen in the Courtyard at the College. They held some special alchemy effect according to the books. Imagine if back home, they had tested for these kinds of things, plants with such astounding effects on the body itself. Alchemy was not more than another buzzword for working with dangerous chemicals, which made him wonder if any of these could make something similar to a Neurotoxin that he'd almost experienced back home. The thought dreaded him for that day he was attacked, but at least he'd had some kind of way to deal with the problem, but he still had a problem with attacking head on.

But She wasn't here so there wouldn't be any doubt with encountering neurotoxin here in Skyrim. Nor any turrets to shoot him. Just angry wild life. And now, he had his Dragonborn.

Uh...well, the Dragonborn would deal with any foes herself right? She stated herself, and in the inflection in her tone that she was always ready to battle and use her abilities to an extent. His usage of trickery and healing might as well help someone some day, and what better way to earn a better reputation of doing so than serving the Dragonborn? These...Nords had their sense of honor. Then he thought about his illness. His head fell into a depression as he thought that that would act up on him again in the wrong moments. However...if these...plants...held their effects...he could find a way to manage his problems, and potentially, many others if he tried. There were some alchemy books that he'd read during this past week that could help him on his way to finding treatment, if not a cure.

Right now those thoughts were trampled as he was astounded at the way Kodlak seemed to climb this steep mountain with great ease. No way would horses back home would even begin to imagine the extent into which Kodlak climbed. The view from up here became fogged and white with the forever falling snow. His cheeks reddened, although he had to admit he wasn't as cold as before. There was hope dwelling on whether this tomb had fires going. Logic said no.

Suddenly, through the scriptures of snowflakes, Doug witnessed a very tall dark statue of a lady, wearing revealing clothing, her arms raised, with a crescent moon in one hand and a sun in the other. This must have been Azura, if his studies told him anything. A Daedric Princess, if he remembered correctly. He and the Dragon got off Kodlak as soon as they were at the steps of the ebony-coloured shrine and walked up, seeing a black robed Dark Elf, or Dumner, praying at a particular altar.

"Aranea?" Said the Dragonborn. Suddenly she got up and turned to the Dragonborn, with Doug standing by her.

"Champion. You have returned. Just as she said you would." Said Aranea, her tone sounded a bit relieved.

"Yeah yeah." Said the Dragonborn. "We're here to investigate the tomb near here."

Aranea shuffled and turned to the giant statue. "Azura had started giving me visions again about a month ago, despite her telling me no more would be given."

"What she'd say?" Asked the Dragonborn.

"She explained to me that a series of events were about to unfold. It became very sudden that perhaps the problem with dragons wasn't the only thing plaguing Skyrim. In fact it's gotten the other Daedric Princes scared, much to her surprise."

The Dragonborn browed. "Really? It's even got the Daedric Princes scared? What on Nirn has that kind of power? Surely it's not Dragon in nature?"

Aranea frowned. "No...it's got nothing to do with them. In fact, that's a different matter entirely." She explained. "The Tomb underneath here has opened. It housed my ancestors who used to come here quite frequently, but deeper within houses a hidden treasure that has only been discovered recently."

The word 'treasure' came under the Dragonborns radar, raising both her eyebrows.

"Treasure? You say?"

Aranea nodded. "Yes. Azura told me you would be returning to this Shrine and for to tell you to go inside the tomb itself and grab the treasure. She wouldn't explain why though. But it's as if she want you wants you to get it."

A smile was drawn on the Nord womans' face. "Alright then, Sounds simple enough. Let's go!"

Doug could only understand the Dragonborns enthusiasm for adventure as to reap the rewards afterwards. Treasure, of course. The one cliché thing that people seemed wish for. Common sense said this was a trap, but curiosity said this was going to be interesting. His subconscious seemed to move his legs, never straying too far behind the Dragonborn, otherwise he'd head back to the College for more safety if he felt she couldn't do the job. Instead, he sighed internally and braved on, so as long as he remembered how he could use those spells of his, everything would be okay. The Dragonborn slaughtered dragons for a living, what down in that tomb could compare to that?

After walking down the steps, they'd lead themselves somewhere behind the statue, down a little further the track ahead. The Dragonborn squinted, unsure of where the entrance was. Doug gulped, but had some strange feeling that they weren't too far. In fact, he could see something in the distance that could be regarded as an icon, like an arrow pointing downwards. He tapped the Dragonborns shoulder, getting her attention and pointed to his right. Turning around, she could see a built in cave covered with snow. She smirked and headed in the direction, making Doug forever question himself with this.

After digging the snow out, they entered inside. The sound of the wind howled and echoed throughout as they entered the first large room of the tomb. There were large jugs and urns scattered with rows of gravebeds embdedded in the walls. She ordered Doug to squat and keep an eye out, as there might be some bandits around that may have made this place their home for meanwhile. Her eyes seemed so focused, her ears near twitching at the prospect, freezing and raising her hand up for Doug to stop walking as she heard voices, the acoustics of the tomb made things a lot more louder. Tuning into their grumbles, there were, in fact, several bandits. Approaching forward with utmost silence and care, she could see three bandits sitting around a campfire. There was temptation to maim them with formed claws, but with Doug here it would be far worse doing so. With that out of the picture she was forced to clear them the old way...but she felt like having fun with them first. Turning to Doug, who she bumped into accidentally because he was far too close. It was a very displeasure by the look on her face, but putting an index finger on lips indicated to be very quiet as Doug gently nodded in response, tip toeing back a few steps and examining what the Dragonborn wanted to unfold.

He watched as she brought out something small and green from her side pouch and displayed it to Doug. Judging by it's size, shine and cut, it was an Emerald. She flicked it up, caught it and gripped it, closing her fist and heading back into the direction of the Bandits. She motioned with her hands for Doug to hide, remembering the movements she'd taught him in the previous week. Stepping backwards, he hid behind a support pillar, gulping and hoping she wouldn't do anything horredously stupid that would get them both killed.

His head tilted to catch a glimpse at what she was doing. She was busy throwing the emerald up and down, reminding Doug of a baseball player. Despite her back to him, he suspected a very sinister grin on her face. Suddenly, she threw the Emerald forward, making a loud noise as it clunked against the wall. It alerted the guards, who drew their swords. The Dragonborn stepped back a few steps as she hidden behind the support pillar opposite Doug. She listened in to their footsteps, her breathing intensifying slightly. She was smirking a little as she her eyes caught on to Doug's looking at her with fear of being caught. The Dragonborn's smirk grew bigger, supposedly insinuating confidence, but Doug's own wasn't really brought up.

"Hey what's this?" Said one of the bandits. Another poor, stupid creature wearing his worn armor and swinging his dull sword out. He bent down to pick the Emerald up. Two of his bandit buddies could see it glistening in the fire light, making them interested in it. The original Bandit pulled it away, glaring at the other two.

"This is mine!" He roared.

"Aww we just wanna take a look..." Said one of them, sounded rather dejected.

"Nah, I don't want your slimy hands all over it!"

The pair listened to them argue over it, and it wasn't before long that a fued had started, leaving them to tear each other apart of the small gem. Swords clashed together as a gasp indicated somebody was stabbed. Eventually it all became quiet as that wolfish grin on the Dragonborns face became ever wider.

She waved to Doug as she walked over to their bloodied corpses, with Doug surprised.

"Are they really that stupid as to fight over something like that?" Doug asked, in a state of total disbelief.

The Dragonborn nodded, picking up her Emerald from one of the bandits palms and cleaning the blood off of it.  
"Yup. They're a real smart lot." She said sarcastically.

"Now if the case was that they were, they would have realized that the Emerald wasn't there before and would have explored the entire area to see where it had come from."

Doug thumbed his beard.  
"Ah makes sense. They're not really savvy in that department then..." He stated.

After searching their bodies for Gold, which much to the distaste of fiddling with dead bodies, they made their way further down into the tomb, entering into a long hallway. More clinking sounds were heard, but they were more like cracking bones. They went into their sneak mode once more, with all ears out. They came across another gravebed room, Doug noticing walking skeletons with swords partolling the area. Spiderwebs were everywhere as torches were lit up across the walls and in between the gravebeds.

The Dragonborn waited until the Skeleton had turned it's back to her, before knocking off it's head with her sword. The bag of bones fell apart and formed a pile on the floor. Doug kept watch as they snuck around, not realizing the raised stone tile on the floor and unknowingly stepped on it. If it weren't for the Dragonborns quick reflexes, she could see the large log falling from above, her head spinning around to tackle Doug to the ground as the log swung over them. This sequence seemed to flash by as he had no idea what was going on, and all he felt was almost a hundred kilogram woman on top of him, threatening to break his ribcage altogether. Not that he thought she was fat. She had all that equipment and armor after all. Her head dug in his skinny chest, lifting it to stare at him, allowing him to look closer at her pale face. She looked like a battle worn woman, however, full of experience, and her grey-green eyes even prettier up close. Her hair could do with some tending to however. He blinked twice before she rolled off of him.

"Be mindful of traps idiot. Usually every place is loaded with them. So keep a sharp eye out." She warned, standing up with scorn etched into her face.

Doug got up slowly and dusted himself down.   
"Sorry! I should take heed of your warnings, oh wise one..." He said with a bit of sarcasm.

The Dragonborn smiled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah yeah...let's keep going, tombs are hardly small places..."

She wasn't wrong about the size of the place! Rooms were small themselves but it was the quantity of areas this tomb had that astounded him! How could something this big be forgotten for so many years? Then again...

More gravebed rooms and more corridors and hallways that they had passed. Doug had witnessed a strange type of creature that continued to pop up every so often, some laying on benches and even some popping off the lids of their coffins and outright getting out. He'd read of something in their description, humanoid but zombie like looking things that were known as Draugr.

He watched closely as the Dragonborns war-grace was put into motion, slicing through the Draugr like they were nothing. Their screams scratched into his ears, intensifying his paranoia, struggling to fight running away. He witnessed a stronger looking Draugr that opened it's mouth, Shouting at the Dragonborn, sending her flying backwards. Doug shook with fear, noticing this was becoming quite the habit for her...increasingly so. He thought to himself that she would get up, but eventually she was limping, her left leg in obvious need of repair. But the Dragonborn didn't give up that easily.

"What's that? Did you say  **...FUS RO DAH!** " She shouted, knocking back the stronger Draugr. She shuffled herself over, at a speed that Doug thought was impressive for a limpee and pushed it back into the ground with her good leg as it struggling to stand up and stabbed her sword into it's chest, then pulling it out, and slicing it's head off, Doug's eyes fixated as it rolled away, silence returning to it's sweet, but horrifying form. The Dragonborn leaned on a nearby fallen ruin, rubbing her leg, with Doug running to her side.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, worry written on his face.

"No...I'm all sunshine and happy Spriggans." She said with a dull tone. "Of course it does idiot...hurry, use the Healing Hands Spell...I haven't got all day!"

Doug's mindset changed back from paranoia, a single spark of her hurried words forced him to sprinkle his magic on to her...although he was lucky he said that in his own mind, as he would have gotten far worse punishment otherwise.

He knelt down on one knee and raised his hands by her left leg. He was nervous, having hardly tried the Restoration Spell in such a situation before. A real life one at that. Swallowing his pride, he touched her leg with hesitation as the Dragonborn leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Doug took this as it a might hurt situation. He focused his energies of what he had, a warm, golden glow pouring out from the palms of his hands, golden streamers whipping about as he focused intently on her wounded leg. Suddenly he let go, opened his eyes as he lifted his head to stare at her, continuing to do so as he stood back up. Lowering her head, her expression was emotionless, her piercing stare worrying him.

"That's done...let's move on..."

More rooms, more Draugr. It became a bit repetitive. Walk, hear screaming, slay, walk, hearing screaming, slay. His thoughts pondered into what ever methods he could use next, after successfully applying the Healing Hands spell. Only if he could have used this against the turrets back the lab. Imagine how easier the entire ordeal would have been if he had these spells. The entire time he could killed Her with all of this! Though it could prove useful if he ever had the small, slight, unlikely, impossible chance of meeting Her again if the occasion presented itself. He was more prepared than he'd ever been.

But it did little to squash his fears. This was probably a tiny percentage compared to what he read about the rest of the province. There were opportunities to try use some illusion abilities but he was reluctant to put them into action, after seeing how well the Dragonborn was doing. Her bloodlust reminded him so much of Her, albeit at a more...forgiving outlet of levels. If the Dragonborn could go through Her tests with this kind of velocity the entire complex would have most likely exploded within mere hours, if his imagination served him any justice. Nonethless, the Dragonborn was in her element upon each Draugr that she slew.

They came down to a strangely formed room with with a natural spire supporting the cave room. It wasn't touched but hands, judging from the dirt and the jagged walls and a lot of cobwebs. However, this made Doug feel edgy as he heard squishy squirmning sounds echoing off the walls. So badly he wanted to flee, but he just couldn't. The Dragonborn's face turned serious as her ever wide and wary eyes kept a close watching, darting from left to right, right to left at consistent intervals. Doug put up a brave forefront, standing at middleground between far and close, trying to mimic the Dragonborn. Turning around, she looked at Doug briefly, with him pondering at what she wanted from him. A minor moment had passed, making him feel edgy. She raised her palm at him, telling him to stay where he was. He nodded as she snuck around the corner. He listened in as he could hear squishing noises alongside odd high pitched squeals. What ever she was killing, it certainly wasn't human. She came back eventually, Nodding at him to continue. As they walked passed, he could see the corpses of two gigantic red spiders, their legs huddled together and shooting to the top. The Dragonborn looked battle-ready as they wandered down another corridor.

* * *

Meanwhile Space had somehow managed to push himself out of the box and landed into the cold snow. He shook bits of it off, and looked into the sky. It was depressing at his optics showing nothing but whites, blacks and grays. He wished there was a better view...of space.

"Clouds block view of sky. Can't see space. Wanna go to space!" He muttered. He yelped as Kodlak knocked him with a hoof. With more rolling, he could see the horse beside him.

"Where Crazy Wolf Lady? Promised me to go to space...hmm...she did..." Space continued.

Kodlak didn't bother to respond, rather knelt himself down in the snow as he sat there.

"Too white out here. You know what's not white? Space. Space is black. Space is cool...mhmm.."

He whinced as Kodlak knocked him again with his foot.

* * *

Another half an hour in, Doug suspected they were getting close. Whether it was instinct or his schizophrenia playing up again, hearing a torrent of whispers. The Dragonborn didn't seem bothered by any of it. The Dragonborn walked forward, hearing something else herself. Suddenly a set of blades dropped from the side and began to swing about at a nominally fast rate. Doug jumped as he heard the swoops but kept quiet for stealth sake. The Dragonborn narrowed in. There were at least six of them swinging about. Didn't matter, all she had to do was watch the rhythm and pace they were swinging at. She gathered several moments to check them before clearing her throat. Another Shout, Doug thought.

Standing back, she kept checking back in the blades and organized herself into a rather perculiar running stance. She then bolted and opened her mouth...

" **WULD!** " She shouted, very quickly. Doug was amazed at the speed she had shot herself at and had to blink twice. A metallic groan was sounded as the blades stopped moving, allowing Doug to move on.

"You really need to teach me that. Might come in handy some day." Doug put out.

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "Ehh may take you a while..."

Upon this new area, the Dragonborn recongnized it as a Puzzle Room, used in many tombs as a tool to keep out unwanted visitors. Naturally, since she was the Dragonborn, she was going to solve it, like she had done with the others. They were in a square room, with a walkway above them, leading to four enclosed doors. Around them were four triangular grey stone pillars, with animal engravings on them. Upon closer inspection each side of a pillar had a picture of a fish, an eagle and a snake, and a doorway closed off with prison like bars. Doug squatted before them and scratched his beard. This kind of contraption was not to dissimilar to what one had found in a test. The Dragonborn grumbled.

"I solve them...but it takes me forever sometimes. They usually leave clues hanging around. But knowing where those clues are is the challenge." She explained.

Doug looked around as the Dragonborn stood there impatiently, tapping her foot. The next room was locked, but she had this uncanny suspicion the treasure may lurk in there, considering they had been down here for about an hour now, slaying Draugr and the like. Doug scanned upwards, seemingly fascinated by the closed off doors on the next floor. He walked up the log-made steps, looking at them thoroughly. He tried shifting them himself, but they were damn fit. He turned to the Dragonborn.

"Is there a switch or something down there?" He yelled to her.

Her body moved around as she frantically searched for something that even relevantly looked like a switch. Suddenly she could see something near the entrance they came from. There was a switch opposite the one she'd used to stop the swinging blades. It was more lever like, but it explained what that sound was earlier. Pulling the lever, Doug could see the doors opening up, the stone slabs shifting and hiding away, revealing the answer to the puzzle.

"Judging from how the pillars are set and where the answers are set, looks like it's set to be...in clockwise fashion from the...Northern Pillar to the Western Pillar...Fish...Fish...Snake...Eagle!"

The Dragonborn nodded, pushing the pillars to their correct order. Her strength was to be admired as she shifted them to look in her direction in the middle of the room. Doug looked around himself, just realized another switch on the wall. He wandered over to it, and pulled the lever.

Down on the first floor, the bars had shriveled into the ground, now leading the way into the possible final area of the tomb. Doug walked down and stood beside her, relieved.

"Phew!...that was hard work." He commented. The Dragonborn gave him a cynical look.

Doug rubbed his head. "What? So you wanted to get the treasure right?"

She walked off without saying a single word.

The treasure room was definitely the final area in the tomb. It held a path that sat inbetween two pools of water, with rows of torches on the walls beside them. There were coffins standing up everywhere and one big one at the back, guarding a treasure chest. The Dragonborn tightened her grip on her blade, with Doug uneasy feeling returning once more.

"Why do I feel like we're about to get ambushed?" Doug said nervously.

"I don't doubt you. Basically what happens is that we try to get close to the treasure...then Oblivion breaks lose."

Doug gulped. "What do you want me to do?"

The Dragonborn looked around. Behind her was another raised area that had a set of log stairs leading to it, with a bunch of old pots on top. She nodded to let him flee up there.

"I expect your arse back down here to heal me understand?" She said between her gritted teeth.

"Yes Ma'am." Doug said, feeling anxious.

Once up there he hid behind a pot, again in the right position to see this entire ordeal unfurl. By this point, watching her battles became such a game to him, guessing which way she would slice the enemy, horizontally or vertically, whether she would stab them or decipate them. His own inability to kill something...well, even though he knew why, but partially because she could do it all on her own. A one woman army. Made him think of...well...

During the breaks he had learning his spells, he tended to one book he had kept, hidden from the Dragonborns sight as channel his thoughts into an art journal, considering he didn't have any paint to use. Normally he'd do that, displaying his ideals of heroism and showing history to those who couldn't understand or see due to certain circumstances. This one allowed him to somewhat show a simple and brief explanation, or perhaps complicated at times, to show his train of thought. He was encouraged to be creative by his therapists, or during his brief stint in an asylum. He wasn't sure whether the medication was a curse or a blessing...not to mention his condition itself. He had left the book back at the College, but he managed to find a small piece of charcoal in one of the pots and looked back between the Dragonborn and a white pot he had found. The display she had put on for the roaring and screaming Draugr that had burst out of their coffins...he implented them to, one woman...against so many. The bravery..the courage...the similarities...he had to draw their comparisons too...albeit he had no colours to work with, his quick, nimble skills allowed him to ensure there was an aethestic difference between the two...scribbling turrets around one and evil zom- uh...Draugr things around the other. It was like he was dropped into an alternate universe or he had gone back into time to meet a scary ancestor. A slash here, a slash there. Although, he didn't remember her being that brutal, but the look of determination was there, somewhere deep in her blood lust and glaring eyes. The Draugr had thrown themselves at her, but she was far too quick for them.

The last head rolled on the floor, with the Dragonborn showing signs of fatigue as her breathing quickened. The coffin at the back hadn't quite yet burst open, but it looked like the Dragonborn was taking a quick break. Then he realized she might be wounded and shot down by her side.

"Everything okay?" He asked her.

She glared at him. "Oh yeah...sure...I'm completely fine." She said, hissing through her teeth.

Doug wouldn't have any of it. "Where does it hurt?"

The Dragonborn grumbled. "Gah...one of the bastards got me in the stomach. Think you can manage that?"

Doug swallowed. He pulled the Dragonborns hands away from her stomach, now bloody and wounded. He pressed his hands against it and closed his eyes, summoning his magic to heal it. He sensed it was deep, as it was taking a while to fully heal. He stopped, suddenly, trying to use more then realized he was out of magicka.

"This Draugr better know what's coming to em', cause I'm about to kick his ass!" She boasted. With her strength she shot up and charged at the coffin, forcing the lid to flip off, revealing a Draugr with a spiky helmet. Doug had fallen over, but looking over to the fearsome foe, he realized it was time for him to get back up there.

The Dragonborn smirked and got her sword ready, her wolfish grin returning.

"There you are Deathlord. Wondering when you'd come out of your damned hidy hole!" She taunted.

He shouted at her, but not before she somersaulted out of the way. Doug covered his ears at the shrilling screams. The Dragonborn swung her sword about within her cockiness, her signature wolfish smirk. She summoned flames in one hand, firing the flames at it from a distance, hopefully turning into a crisp, but despite that it still came for her, screaming and attempting to slice her with its axe. She successfully dove to the right, right before decapitating it with one, swift horizontal swipe, standing in that position, crouching and panting.

"Should have stayed in there but meh."

Cracking her neck, she waited until Doug realized he could come down, as he cautiously crept down the steps and looked at her thoroughly for any see-able injuries that she didn't care for, but obviously he did. He was the Healer remember?

Their heads turned at the same time, staring at the treasure chest. Turning to each other, they nodded. Oh what kind of treasures would they find this time? Actually, this was his first official adventure, so honestly he didn't know what they would expect. Gold was most common...jewels secondmost...and the rest he wasn't tying to common cliches.

The Dragonborn hoped it would be a new type of armor to wear. She'd always wanted to try on that fancy golden Dwarven armor...just because it looked pretty cool and boast to others of what greatness she had found. Or a new sword. That would be good too...or some jewels...yes...jewels. Actually a new dagger...Dwarven Armor and a new dagger. She wouldn't mind Daedric but that would be a bit farfetched.

They lurked over the chest, with the Dragonborn rubbed her hands together in delight, tongue hanging out in her childish glee, with Doug's ever splitting thoughts diverging in a huge batch of wonders. The Dragonborn went to open it, but suddenly pulled her hand back as it started to shake. The pair looked at each other. Something was alive in there! There were muffled cries for help, so it seemed. What on Nirn had they sealed? Doug gulped and moved back slightly, frantically checking the area for anymore potential Draugr ambushes. There was intention felt from the Dragonborn as she clicked the lock on, flinging the lid open.

"Oh man alive am I ever glad to see some light! This chest was far too dark in my opinion. What use am I in a dark, cool place where no one can see me? I'm sure I have some proper usage. Second thoughts, lemme...lemme check my manual for that..." Said a quintessential male voice that boomed from a similar looking silver orb with a blue circular in the middle and seemed to have a set of two handles that reminded the Dragonborn of Space.

Doug peaked over to have a look, where the orb seemed to notice him.

"Hey mate! Doug it-it's me! It is really me! Your ol' pal Wheatley! See, these awfully dreadful looking things brought me down and I kept screeching me...horrible noises they make. They smell worse than humans oh ho ho I can tell you now..." He said, eagerly sputtering about, playing with his shutters to show off subtle emotive expressions.

The Dragonborn looked over to Doug with a funny expression.

"You know this thing?" She asked, genuinely surprised.

Doug looked away. He had a lot of explaining to do...


	5. Secrets and Regrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn gets to know Doug and Wheatley better, even if they do get on her nerves.

Another one of these weird looking talking meteors? And Doug knew one of them? And it had a strange accent? She began wondering if this adventure was going to make her mad. She'd navigated them out of the tomb and back outside to talk. Her mind was completely...she was silent. The entire time. Her thoughts intertwined with one another, trying to figure this all out. First off, a space obsessed meteor falls out of the sky and this one...who appeared to be made of the same material and of similar design, actually held some sort of intelligence, if not rambled on worse than Space. He and Doug talked about things the Dragonborn hardly understood, a kind of magical formula she'd never even heard of. She ignored them both for the time being, her face stretched to determination, their voices echoing across the cave-walls, driving her mad. Doug held...what was his name? Wheatles? Wheatler? No...anyway, she didn't care. Doug had been holding back on some information. And she wanted answers.

They made it out into the open, that blue space meteor she finally got her head around it and remembered his name. But his voice...he went on and on. She looked down to see that Space had disappeared out of the box. She looked around, with Doug confused as to watch she was looking for. Kodlak had disappeared too. The Dragonborn whistled, within seconds the horse came running back. She approached it, patting his head and giving stern looks.

"Where's the other one?" She asked.

Kodlak lifted his head and shook it. She took this as he didn't know. She grumbled.

"Everything all right?" Asked Doug.

The Dragonborn kicked the snow out of frustration. A fire lit in her eyes and a fury fled off her tongue.

"Woah love calm down! What seems to be the problem?" Wheatley queried, surprised.

"Actually, it's a bit chilly here. Don't you think we could go somewhere warmer? With a heater? I mean, look at all this snow! It's colder than up there! Are...are we on top of some really tall mountain? What did you say this place was Douggy?"

Doug had an concerned but slightly frightened look on his face as the Dragonborn grumbled.

" **IT WAS RIGHT HERE!**  ANOTHER...THING METEOR OR WHAT EVER...How in the...never mind, we're heading back to Winterhold!" The Dragonborn shouted.

Doug shoved Wheatley in the now empty box, who seemed to be quite...worried for a moment. Doug had assured him that they were going somewhere warmer than up there and they would find a nice place to sit and chat about their situation. In fact the entire conversation they were about to embark on eventually Doug felt was going to have a lot of blockages. There were from two entirely different cultures. A bit of, translation would have to be in order to fully comprehend what they were on about. Doug...sort of knew that. The Dragonborn on the other hand...She looked like the sort of person who just needed the full blown answers given to her. Whether she understood them or not, at least there would be something to quench her thirst of curiosity. Or power, so it seemed. If what she had was something similar in design, it would have had to been...or should it have been... Wheatley commented on the strange town as they came back to the Hold Capital. Doug carried him throughout, with people giving him strange looks. The Dragonborn walked with a certain rough stiffness and a prominent scowl, which Doug felt was to ensure no words would be spoken until they had reached a room for privacy.

Once inside the College grounds, the Dragonborn had gone back to her quarters and sat on her chair, back hunched over and arms across, her index finger tapping. Doug was on another chair, while Wheatley was put on the bed. A void of non-verbal communication was sifting with Wheatley looking back and forth between the pair.

"Am...am I interrupting something here? Cause no one is talking exactly...Douggy? Strange, lady wearing a kind of medieval but not really medieval costume? Was this...this a type of act? Are we filming a movie? Oh I get it! You're an Actress! Don't know who you are though, but never seen a lady warrior...although your mannerisms remind of one particular woman, where ever she is. I tell you what though, she kicked my ass hard! I...kind of deserved it, yeah. But...now I'm here...back on Earth, one of you now, can help me find her, so I can finally apologize. Anyone with me? Actress who's name I don't know? Douggy mate?" Wheatley continued to talk, but it was like talking to the empty air.

The Dragonborn glared at the talking ball, ready to smash it if it kept talking such nonsense. Doug thought it was the best time to explain. He sensed the annoyance in the Dragonborns frame and didn't want to earn her fist in his face...or Wheatley's. A nervousness rode up in his spin, his fragile side nearly exposed.

"She's not an Actress." Doug said bluntly.

"What? Then what is she? Some kind of Barbarian in the woods? I mean, look at her, she's...tall for starters and I'm not saying that from a core's perspective...I'm, I'm saying it from a humans perspective. Is-is that armor real then? Fashioned from an old, ancient steel made it a kind of dramatic medieval stereotype. Is she an Amazonian?" Wheatley continued.

Doug shook his head. "No. She is not."

The temperature in the room rose quite a bit, Doug noticing the Dragonborn twitching a little. This was going to get dangerous real quickly if nothing happened other than Wheatley's pointless rambling.

"Nah not nearly dark skinned enough I reckon" Wheatley said."...never met an Amazonian myself actually. Hey love, what nationality are you? I don't want to be racist, but your skin is unbelievable pale, like you've been in cryo sleep for many years. Actually, this area must feel like cryo sleep in itself, what with all the snow everywhere and-and the dreaded monsters that plague. I'm quite surprised no one here has died from such severity. Brr...it is quite cold, I'm worried I might short-circuit AND-"

A series of whirring and shuffled sounded the Dragonborn as she shot up from her chair in a snap, unsheathing her sword in a sudden motion and casting flames in the other hand, rage scrunched in her face as she was about to slice the nonsense of this babbling thing.

"WAIT!" Doug yelled.

Wheatley vibrated in fear, popping a bolt as he sparked briefly, then laughed nervously. Doug had responded just as quickly as he jumped off his chair, his hand reaching out to stop her. The tip of the blade was so close to his optic, but the look in her eyes was what he feared more.

"Give me a good reason not to..." She grumbled. "If it's not going to tell me who it is and what it's doing here...as well as why's its here..."

His optic darted between the pair, looking at the inflamed Dragonborn and the reasonably calm Doug.

"I'm not supposed to give away this information to non-employees am I?" Wheatley asked wearily.

Doug rubbed his face. "I doubt that would be even applicable here. After all, what harm is there now?"

The ball rolled to simulate nodding. "Ahh well then. Ask away. I have no qualms about it love."

The Dragonborn grumbled. "Okay. Just...tell me. You know, everything. What are you? Why are you here?"

"Happy to." Wheatley replied cheerily, albeit that riling up her nerves. "Names Wheatley, obviously...an uh...I'm a Personality Core, belonging to Aperture Science Laboratories. I used to tend to the smelly humans back at the facility, but...an unfortunate series of events...that...I uh...kind of...not that I really want to talk about it..."

The Dragonborn leaned back in her chair. That term came up again. Doug felt her eyes dig into him, gulping as she flames brewed in them.

"I have no mission here...apparently...I uh...after those...unfortunate events I was blown into space...then drifted...and drifted...I was still drifting of course. Then...blacked out. Had no idea what was going on until I suddenly woke up, looking at these smellier-than-human monstrosities. They are so gross...is that what happens to humans when they're not in Cryosleep?"

No one answered him. He continued otherwise.

"Uh yes yes...moving on. I tried reasoning with them but they were garbling on about something...couldn't translate it, which I found odd since I kept checking back on my language programs. Out of all 300 plus, I couldn't find it. It was remarkable. I felt like an outdated core...I wanted to tell them they could do with some breath mints in their language but alas was met with failure. Then YOU guys came along and saved me! Ohh...yes. A combination of instinct driven with some kind of testing apparatus...which I can't see...lead you two to me. Doug I know, but you?"

The Dragonborn faced away from him. So he was definitely connected. She left the room in quite a staunch hurry, leaving Doug to begin to open his mouth, but with better judgement, decided not to. There was scorn written all over hear face.

"Yyooow...she's a tough one. I don't really feel comfortable with her in the same room anyway..." Wheatley said in a sarcastic way.

The Dragonborn stormed upstairs to the top of the hall, allowing herself to cool off. Well, she was left bewildered, not to mention quite annoyed at their antics. Doug had hid this information from her, when she possible could have needed it. Space was missing and the Midden was still being quite the troll. The way that Wheatley spoke, the things that he described was used in comparison to Dougs. She would try and use the polite way to pull a simple explanation out of Doug, but a small fraction her hidden conscience held her back. Whisking a piece of hair back behind her ear, she watched the snowflakes fall, each individual character that floated down peacefully. The only thing she didn't complain about was the fact she didn't need to head back to Markarth anymore.

The next problem filtered it's way back into her mind. A creature, that is feared by the Daedric Princes. Azura. It was not linked to Dragons in any case. Something far worse has lingered to the province. The Dragonborn became heavily involved with her own thoughts as she picked out logical ways to figure out what it was. If it wasn't her lust for power, it was her need for information. Especially if it was becoming a potential threat. Leaning on the battlements and looking at the rest of Winterhold. It became prominent that she no longer cared for Doug's or Wheatleys idiotic premise.

It then clicked. She would have to contact one of the Daedric Princes to find out more. But whom. Who could she trust? There were meetings and unexpected encounters with several Princes. Meridia wouldn't bother unless it's urgent and about the Undead. Not Malacath since he only dealt with the Orcs. Azura was definitely out of the question. Boethiah...unlikely. Since that last incident the Dragonborn was highly remorseful for her...actions. She grumbled underneath her breath and whacked her fist on the battlement. Periyte...ehh...no. Never doing THAT one again either. Even if her missions for the artifacts were purely for power purposes and nothing else AND she was on their good side...the likelihood of them all spilling out information.

Molag Bal? Highly possible. Incident...well, probably best left forgotten as well. She theorized that although that Prince was insane, (as were most in fact) that his shrine was easiest to get to. It looked like she was going to head to Markarth one way or another. But she was unwilling to let Doug and Wheatley stay in Winterhold. Doug, for one, always complained about the cold. She bit her lip, the tips of her forethought busy contemplating on taking them back to Whiterun. Doug could toughen up with the Companions perhaps? She couldn't afford to let him die now, when there were still so many questions. They also knew nothing of Skyrim itself. She couldn't be bothered wording it out to their idiotic minds. She spent another hour mentally planning her future actions and decided what would be best.

Without using any words, she'd picked up Wheatley and prompted with brief hand gestures for Doug to pick up his things.

"Oh God where are we going now? You've picked me up and you look rather peeved. Where're we going now love?" Wheatley asked, his optic trained on her face.

"Whiterun." She said bluntly.

"Whiterun?" Wheatley repeated. "White run where?"

She smacked the ball on the head, with a small grunt seeking through his audio.

"Ouch...Oh we're going to a place called Whiterun. I see it now. I hope it's warmer there. I don't know how people can survive this temperature. I mean, look at 'im all. All rugged up, but the damn cloth looks so darn thin. I don't quite get the picture, but I b- AH OKAY I'LL SHUT UP NOW!"

They eventuated at Kodlak outside of town, with the Dragonborn chucking Wheatley inside the box and jumped on the horse. Doug kept quiet as she strapped on his backpack and hopped on, still being a good boy by keeping his mouth shut. Still, his concern and confusion only grew as she rode out Kodlak in the drifts of harsh dirt and snow. Wheatley rambled on about nothing for the past hour or so, then spoke to Doug for another. This was going to be rightfully, blisteringly, joyful...if you could find your way past the sarcasm. Their discussion about things she couldn't begin to comprehend was hard to ignore. Although Doug desperately wanted Wheatley to shut up, he couldn't find the will to say, and restrained himself to be the coward that he was.

The journey back was painfully...not slow but irritant. They were half way back and Wheatley commented on the mountain tops and the plants that surrounded them. He attempted to trace them back to his Plant Index within his manual but couldn't find anything that even remotely resembled them and declared in his haste that he had discovered some beautiful flowers and announced he was going to name them after himself. The Dragonborn rolled her eyes.

"They do have their own names idiot." She ushered through bated breath.

Wheatley chuckled with pride. "Oh really? I reckon my names are better then. Wheatley Blue. Has a ring to it dun'it?"

She ignored him as they finally made it out and began to pass the black, dreary city that was Windhelm. staring at it from afar, it's docks and the Palace of Kings that stood out the most.

"Oh the driver said to me when you sent me to Winterhold said this was Windhelm. Home of the rebelling Stormcloaks." Said.

The Dragonborn smirked. "Ah so you have done some catching up I see. That is a good idea."

She...was resenting towards explaining her history in Windhelm. Cold, hearth of a place. But couldn't resist taking a stop over there. She parked Kodlak at the Stables, with Doug offering to strap Wheatley to his back. The Dragonborn didn't seem to care. They walked the long, frozen stone bridge that climbed over the northern remnants of the White River. It gave her minor memories of the youngest parts of her youth before her parents were murdered. She briefly thought back to her running around with her friends, spitting into the river, then getting told off by the guards before fleeing the scene with devious warm smiles. To Doug's surprise as he walked beside her, she actually let one off herself. It was quite alarming that she'd given off a legitimately happy expression, if not amused at something that wasn't malicious in nature. Her eyes traveled from her left, to her right, catching Doug's wide-eyed glance. Her face morphed into a minor scowl, ultimately focused on what was ahead. Doug did the same, gulping in fear.

"Geez this place is ginormous. Well, not as big as the facility mind you, I mean, it's still bloody freezing as well...the air conditioners weren't even that cold." Wheatley complained.

"This is the real world." Said Doug. Then he realized. "Wait, didn't you say you were in Space?"

Wheatley nodded. "Yes yes of course I was. I mean, that will always be cold of course. Deadness of space. At least with my superior hardware I will never freeze to death. I'm just reading my internal thermometer. Why haven't you lot got frostbite yet?"

They walked through the gates of Windhelm into the depressingly frozen stone city. The Dragonborn acknowledged the first building they saw was part of the Stone Quarter, and it was their local inn, the Candlehearth Hall. A mighty, intimidating stone-based Inn at that. She whisked them inside, brushed through the door and approached the bench ordering a few drinks from the bartender, ushering Doug up the stairs afterward. The top floor sat underneath the pointed roof, it's floorboards constantly groaning underneath the weight of the occupants. Seeing that the seats by the fire were free, she freely laid back on one of them, and drunk her ale. Doug let Wheatley down to sit on the wooden coffee table in the middle, after looking around.

"Seems empty in here." Said Doug, who just looked into the bottleneck.

The Dragonborn nodded, her eyes lazily rolling around to check the place out. She sipped her drink and leaned on her hand.

"It picks up sometimes. This city has had a rough time. Still is." She stated.

Wheatley's optic stared at the fire.

"Ahh warmth. Now this is much, much better. This place is great." He complimented. He then eyed the bottle in Doug's hand.

"Oy Douggy, what's that you're drinkin? Better not be alcohol. Stuff rots your brain."

The Dragonborn's lip twitched as she drank from hers. "You have no mouth idiot...how could you possibly know what it's like?"

Wheatley glared at her. "Are you serious? Have you not seen those drink driving adds on the telly? They're awful. Those poor cars...getting all smish, smashed and bashed about. And all everyone seems to care about is themselves. Has anyone given a thought to those poor, poor cars that get caught up in the mess? They end up getting thrown in the incinerator for something that wasn't even their fault!"

Doug gulped and sipped his drink in a hurry. "Wheatley..."

There he goes again. Muttering words that made no sense to the Dragonborn. Telly? Car? Incinerator? She ignored them all and kept drinking away.

"I've made some new plans for us." She announced, changing the topic all of a sudden.

Doug nodded. "Great...what are we doing?" Doug asked, probably a bit too eagerly, as he realized a few seconds later.

Her head was lowered a little, but she stared at him apathetically.

"You're staying at my house in Whiterun, while I head to Markarth." She declared.

Doug browed. But he could tell her everything there was to know about Wheatley...and this one that looked like him. Why bother going there?

"I have...a contact there who might be able to tell us about this impending threat." The Dragonborn continued.

Doug nodded. "Oh okay then. So it's not about us?" He asked, pointing between him and Wheatley.

The Dragonborn gruffed. "No...I'm deciding on giving that part up for a while. You both obviously have stuff to sort out. I'm not bothered by that at all. You're not from Skyrim or Tamriel for that matter. So I'm just going to assume that they're just words of your homeland."

The scruffy, scrawny man was bewildered briefly, then grew to accept her concept.

"If you have any more direct questions...then ask." Doug said, smiling.

The Dragonborn grumbled, forcing herself not to smile. She heard chatter in the background between two local nords that seemingly intrigued her. As she listened in to their conversation, it became more apparent to her. She looked at Doug and Wheatley and got up.

"Wait for a moment. I'll be right be back." She said, walking off and down the stairs.

Doug nodded, sipping his ale as he leaned back to relax. He looked at the bottle and tapped it with his finger. The Dragonborn liked to do that, wander of in search of something she'd seen or heard. She knew the place well. He watched as she talked to the two gentlemen nearby, then at a fast pace went downstairs in a hurry. He contemplated on following her, but then decided against it, not risking her lashes of anger. For now, he enjoyed the fire and the decorative look of the place, like a hunters cabin in the middle of the woods during winter. The smell of marshmallows imitated underneath his nose, missing their sweet softness and mushiness once you heated them well enough. Those days were over...hunting deer. The thrill of shooting a gun didn't come to him, but rather the study of science instead. However what he wanted to study and pursue wasn't recommended, but he did it anyway. He'd heard of Aperture, infamous for it's...less than moral methods, but it provided an environment he could use and was over the moon when he got accepted. Best day of his life. At the time.

"Look at that, no dietary components, lists or graphs. Didn't they make that mandatory? How are you gonna know the sugar and sodium contents?" Asked Wheatley.

Doug didn't bother thinking about that.

"I assume it's not poisonous if they bother to produce it." He answered.

He remembered Wheatley mentioning before about events that happened back at the facility, since last he could possibly remember was the Portal Incident.

"So...you said you were currently activated at Aperture right?" Doug queried.

Wheatley's optic dipped up and down, nodded.

"Uhhh yes...well, technically not. Perhaps I was? I can barely remember now. I was allocated to tending to the test subjects. Eventually I realized I hadn't had contact with Her for many, agonizing years. Alone...with hundreds of sleeping, smelly humans." He explained.

Doug leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees as he held his head in hands, his intent to find out what happened after he'd shoved himself into Cryosleep. Of course, Her, Doug knew exactly who he meant.

"The entire facility came into disrepair and I-I-I realized, that She was gone! Dead! I couldn't bloody believe it!"

Doug twiddled his thumbs, focused. He knew that part. So Wheatley had told him the rest of the story, including reactivating Her, hooking himself up to the chassis and then...turning insane. The core babbled on about a particular itch he felt when another had solved his test, but it had gotten far worse without him realizing about it the last moment. Doug should have suspected as much. The idea of putting the euphoria tract in the chassis had to be the worst idea his fellow workers had, it too far resembled illegal drugs. Although, for his own experience, he always felt the water at Aperture was spiked. Everybody, including Doug himself was driven either insane with ideas, or were just too stupid to realize the moronic intents. Aperture itself was in part built to house those with the insatiable hunger for science, no project was too dangerous or too small in accordance to their intelligence...or common sense. Wheatley...he remembered that construct. Designed to give Her bad ideas in themselves. One of the many cores tried and tested but never seemed to work, but his personality data was one of the more stable ones they had made, due to the...willingness of his sources transfer. And with that sudden...betrayal, hatred, surprised Doug. However, Doug sort of knew it had to do something with the chassis they had built. No one but Doug himself didn't give a second thought about the stimulus program. It was one of those times he was right about his gut.

"Remember we used to be mates Douggy?" Asked Wheatley, his tone weak.

Doug nodded. "Yeah. I helped you out with taking care of the test subjects. Both you and I were in charge of that."

Wheatley's optic shutters indicated happy thoughts, then his optic fell, showing moderate sadness.

"I also took liberty, while you were gone, to look up the files. Remember that girl I was telling you about? The one I...uh...regrettably so to speak...tried to murder yeah?" He murmured.

Doug sighed. "Hmm...yup."

Wheatley looked down in shame. "I...it seemed all set up to be honest...the whole, stubbornness she portrayed...immense let me tell ya...oh god. I'm almost glad she didn't die...not that I wanted her to die but...she pulled through...she might have been telling me something after all."

Doug rose an eyebrow. "Despite the fact she doesn't speak?" He pointed out.

Wheatley blinked. "I know that, I know that...but...could she have been telling me I wasn't my normal self? That entire Itch thing was just far too strong, far too potent to simple shrug away...it's as if I really needed it. It was terrible Douggy...I could see why She was the way she was...you can tell I've had a lotta time to think about this huh?"

"It wasn't your fault." Said Doug, trying to assure him. "You had the fullest intent of getting out of there. You thought you were doing good but in fact you were doing the opposite."

Wheatley sighed. "And now, she's probably dead...she was grabbed by Her at the last moment...probably tore her to shreds the moment she was dragged back inside. Poor, poor..."

Wheatley was on the verge of crying. Well, for a core anyway. Beginning to whimper, Doug could see the interesting progress of the AI within to feel such powerful emotions. Hatred, Happiness, Fear, Regret, Sadness... If anything his range of emotions had progressed much much further that She had. Perhaps that these could have attributed to his downfall, or his original design and function to be a moron. Doug picked the core up and put him in his lap.

"There's nothing you could have done anyway. In fact, if it makes you feel better, it was more my fault... I got her dragged into that mess." Doug spoke out.

Wheatley sniffed. "What? How could you have-"

"I was most likely being selfish or determined...I edited the lists. It couldn't have been anyone else. If it was, they would have died already." Doug revealed.

Wheatley rolled around and trained his optic on his gruffy human friend.

"Selfish? What? You mean, you were the one who forced her to progress through absolutely everything? Are, are you insane? I mean, seriously mate. I almost killed her!" The core iterated.

Doug took a swig of ale. "If you said you looked at her profile, then you would have realized that her will was practically unbreakable. She would never give up, unless the circumstances had changed to her favor, she was force herself to accommodate, change the rules for herself, if it was to serve a purpose." He said.

Wheatley looked down. "I'm not sure where you're getting at mate."

Doug scratched his brow. "I'm saying many more would have died if I didn't do anything. I sacrificed a lot to get her where she was. And like you, I felt immense guilt in doing so. No one should have been put through that like she did."

Wheatley seemed to stare off into distance space, confused by Doug's logical stance on things. It hurt his head to think about it.

"So you're saying...what you did was...was justified?" Wheatley theorized.

Doug nodded, finishing off his ale. "Yes. Now...there's always a reason for everything Wheatley, even if you don't know what that reason is."

Wheatley groaned, looking away again. "Then there must be a reason for me to want to make it up to her you know?...like, I made a promise to her...that she would be free...and I never even did that..."

Doug noticed the weakened crack during those last few words. An AI capable of making promises was new to him, but welcomed it. He was the sort to give him comfort of an AI with a probably conscience. At least it didn't spike up his illness...at least.

They sat there for another hour, Doug ordered another ale and wondering where the Dragonborn was. She'd been gone for an awfully long time. His heart sank as he began to think she'd abandoned them in this inn and gone off, or had forgotten when she'd last placed the weaklings. Running his fingers through his hair, he could use a nice warm bath. For once. No place anywhere seemed to have a simple bathroom with a clean, functioning toilet. Instead, they had disgusting outhouses and forced to dig holes that were far worse than what he had endured enduring the chambers at Aperture. Doug had gotten a rag and stared to clean Wheatley's exterior, which Wheatley compared to a soft massage that, if he had a body, would have lessened his muscles with. Doug was concerned with the crack in his optic was bewildered that it wasn't damaged enough from a probable descent to this strange place. Unfortunately Doug didn't have the necessary materials or tools to repair, Wheatley could still function at a near optimum capacity. He offered to clean his insides, to which Wheatley got on the offensive, that Doug couldn't help but chuckle at.

He'd placed Wheatley on the table and got himself a piece of paper and a pencil and started drawing. Wheatley grew curious as he drew a head, then a torso, then arms and legs.

"Hey why does that look like our friend?" The Core asked, curious. He added further details to her body, the armor that she wore. He'd sketched a dead dragon underneath her heel, and her arm up high with a sword in a triumphant position, her shoulder length hair waving in the wind.

Doug gave him half-lidded eyelid looks. "Because I draw when I get too bored. If I get too bored. or even too anxious and too scared, I start seeing things. I need to keep my mind focused on something at all times."

"Still got that bloody Schizophrenia I see. What happened to your medication?" Wheatley asked.

Doug stopped drawing, placing the pencil beside the paper and rubbed his eyes.

"I...never mind...it's not important. Right now...where is she?"

Wheatley blinked. "She? She as in, stubborn she or the other?"

Doug stopped rubbing, as he sarcastically looked at Wheatley.

"You've got to be more specific than that." Doug groaned.

Wheatley grumbled. "You know...she...one with the wolfish grin?"

Ohh...Doug thought. "No idea where she's gone off to. Maybe she's just going to arrange a few things maybe?"

Suddenly as if on cue, the Dragonborn had stormed up the steps, her face hard with a new sense of a subtle determination, but Doug sensed a hint of spite within.

"Change of plans." She said. "We're heading to Riften. Leaving now...let's go."

The Dragonborn was steadfast about this sudden change. Never speaking a single word of what her current intentions were, leaving Doug and Wheatley baffled. She'd walking rather fast, with any given moment she could have gone into a sprint but didn't. Doug struggled to keep up behind her as they headed to Kodlak.

Once on the horse, Doug barely had time to brace Wheatley in and hop on himself as the Dragonborn charged south towards Riften, a place he briefly read about in books. Couldn't remember much, other than by word of others that it was quite a hole of a place, dank and not well liked, but used as a tool and a haven for thieves and sneaks. The Dragonborn rode Kodlak hard as she could, that the scenery changed rather quickly from snow, to a autumnal feel, seeing the orange leaves on the trees and some local wildlife. No doubt it was beautiful, lush and put a bit of sparkle in the air, that it was clearer and more fresh. But the ride was a struggle for Doug as he held on, looking back at a hardly stable Wheatley in the box, who banged about inside. It was a little warmer, with a little breeze on the wind, as Doug adjusted for speed and rate they were running. More mountains, wild life. Guards. Nothing new in particular after they entered the area other than trees and more plants. The position of the sun indicated it was now late in the afternoon, after all the garbled adventures that they done today. The Dragonborn was in such a rush.

For what the Dragonborn required needed to be silent and subtle, mentally planning things as they come. She'd gone off the well-known and beaten pathway, making her own way around as if she knew some detours. They had come across an unusual area, rocky with pools of steaming emerald water, Doug already feeling their heat, and analyzed that the type of rock was volcanic in looks and nature. The Dragonborn gave off a small smirk. It was perfect. She'd parked Kodlak somewhere nearby and walked towards it. There was a small island in the middle of the pools, with tents. Doug silently followed, seeing odd, red vein like plants around it. The Dragonborn looked at Doug with stern eyes and pointed. It was a Hot Spring by the looks of it.

Dougs face immediately lit up, near tears. He'd fallen to his knees. This...this was...he watched the Dragonborn walk back to Kodlak and grab Wheatley from the box, shoving him into Dougs hands. From that brief moment Doug could sense something odd about the Dragonborn. She was etched with something indescribable.

"Stay here...wash yourself clean. I'm going to be gone for a while again. I don't know how long, but take your time. I'm just running an errand." She said with a eery calm. Doug couldn't put his finger on it, but this meant trouble.

"I'll pick you both up later...don't go wandering too far."

He watched as she'd took Kodlak and rode off towards Riften, shocked slightly as this sudden abandonment. Second in a day. She was in such a hurry, that within the small hours it had taken for her to get from Winterhold to Windhelm, then from Windhelm to Riften. Sudden change of plans? Was this..normal for her? A day in the life of the Dragonborn?

He had plenty of time to wonder later, as he listened to slight gushing of water, creating a calm, sooting effect. There were others here, soaking themselves. He placed Wheatley down on the an edge, while he stripped down to his underwear.

"Looks nice, green isn't normally a colour for water is it?" Wheatley asked.

Doug looked over at the other people nearby. "Well, obviously it isn't lethal." He pointed out.

Wheatley nodded, flapping his handles about. "Ah right yes...that...well, I suppose this bath should make you a little less smelly...not that, that you really smelly in the first place...oh okay so maybe you were...I didn't want to lie to you mate."

Doug chuckled. He dipped his toe into the hot water briefly, testing the temperature. He touched it twice, once for testing and the other to double check. It was rather hot, but it felt more like a nice, hot bath that he hadn't had, for well, months...maybe years. Slowly, but surely, he walked into the springs, eventually rising above his knees, then his waist. His bones cracked as a sure way to remind him of his age. Not that old, but old enough to realize he hadn't been properly massaged in a while. Doug sat down, and let the water soak into his skin. He sighed with relief and leaned his back against the edge, wriggling his toes and resting his eyes. This was nice, the heat taking away his troubles, elevating a sort of calm and soothing his tension that he hadn't had since Aperture had that bizarre spa testing facility. He was sort of glad the Dragonborn had left them here, instead of somewhere that was possibly colder. Looking down at his scrawny, slightly hairy chest, could Skyrim provide him with a stronger body, other than this bony looking thing he was staring at.

He looked at Wheatley, who's optic was darting all over the place. Could a Personality Core know the essence and relaxation properties of a hot spring? Maybe.

"Hey Douggy..." Wheatley started. "Could you possibly, well, dip me in?"

Doug sniffed, as his hands were behind his head. "Don't know if water would cause much problem if you're resistant to flames."

Wheatley laughed, nervousness hinted at. "Oh come on mate. I wanna try it...I've been put in worser stuff I can tell you now...She was an absolute nightmare...very, very cruel..."

Doug looked away, then faced back at him. "Alright fine. If you get damaged circuits, don't come crying to me."

Wheatley's expressed happiness. "I won't, you won't hear a word of complaint heading you way out of my speakers...nope...not a word. Not a whisper!" He said proudly.

The scruffy man was highly reluctant to allow him to do so, picking the core up and placed him in his lap.

"Ooh this is far lovelier than expected. And you humans do this all the time? I mean, as a leisure? Despite the fact we're most likely under a massive hot spot. Must be a volcano nearby then, if I'm not mistaken." Wheatley commented, adjusting his internal spots to protect them.

Doug became skeptical. "I thought you mentioned you couldn't feel heat or cold."

**SNAP**

Doug's head swung around behind him, looking at the trees in the distance as he heard a noise. His paranoia picked up, and hoping like hell he wasn't hallucinating. There were no further sounds, as Doug tried to relax. He needed this. Sinking his body further, an overwhelming elation came over him. Letting the endorphins flow, sinking further and further until his entire body sans his head was under. Wheatley's shutter opened widely

"AH DOUG DOUG! I'M GOING TO DROWN! AHHHH!" Wheatley screamed, receiving some rather awkward stares from other parties in the springs.

Doug groaned. "What are you going on about? You don't have lungs." He said, resting Wheatley on the more shallow part of the water.

"Oh...sorry...forgot...not human...no disgusting organs to use or dismember. So much blood though. How can you store all of it in one single body? Of all the shapes and sizes? And why are the males and the females so different from each other? And yet, s-so...so similar. It astounds me." Wheatley said, embarrassed.

Doug laughed. "There's probably hundreds of different reasons, let's just put it to evolution. All life forms require males and females to...play their part. It can get...very messy."

Wheatley blinked, eager to learn more. "Messier than a serious series of serious testing?" He piqued.

Doug was amused by the cores questions. He was such a child in that regard when it came to terms of what humans called, the talk. Wheatley's mind was already warped around the concept that humans in general were disgusting, how the emit several different kinds of fluids from their body, even though he well knew that humans were made of over 60 percent water, giving some minor explanation over their general fluids.

"Douggy can I ask another question?" Wheatley asked.

"Hm?"

"It's...eh...about...her...that lady with the wolfish grin?"

Doug wasn't sure where Wheatley was going to head with this but anyway.

"What about her?"

The cores shutters were half-shut. "She reminds me soooo much of...well, her...the one I almost murdered...and is probably dead for all I know."

Doug stretched his legs. "We've been through this before Wheatley...I..."

**SNAP!**

Doug lifted his head, knocking it against the edge of the rock and winced in pain, rubbing his head. He felt light headed briefly as his vision became blurry, seeing little tiny turrets running around his head. The pain was agonizing, seeing off quick flashes of light, his mind starting to spin within itself, a familiar growing feeling growing inside, Doug being caught unaware of it, as he'd placed it as something dark and disturbing. Once his vision became sharp, he tried to stand up and attempted to gain a footing, as he was still quite dizzy. Wheatley had rolled into the water by accident and had sunk down. Eyes widened he picked the core up.

"Did you see what it was?" Doug said anxiously, his breath intensifying.

Wheatley shook his optic. "Uh...no...but I believe what ever you were wearing...is actually now gone...disappeared...vanished off the face of the planet. I didn't quite see the perpetrator...although...I saw something brown and heading off in THAT direction...now that I'm sure of it...it was somebody...ah thieves! Leaving you high and dry when you least expect it..."

Doug face-palmed. But he had a lead. He walked over to where his clothes were, and saw footsteps leading off into the pine-tree filled forest ahead. Covering his body with his arms, the breeze wrapped around his wet torso as he shivered, knees bucking inwards. Great...just what he needed. Damn thief. Wheatley sighed, but joined in. He noticed something odd with Doug, but couldn't figure out what it was.

"Don't let em get away Douggy! Don't need ya getting frostbite on ya mate."

Doug nodded. However he didn't have the materials needed to strap Wheatley to his back, so he could cast some spells. Looking around, he could see the other people in the pools relaxing. Doug didn't want to bother them, but he had no choice. He walked up to a long, fair haired gentleman sitting down and tapped him on the back. The man spun around, almost shoving a dagger into Doug's knee and grumbled, his stance was quite usual for the average barbaric Nord.

"Don't bother scaring me like that!" He threatened. "What do you want?"

Doug gulped, heart beating faster. "I wanted to know if you had any rope to spare?"

The man begrudgingly gave Doug some, much to Doug's persistent thanks to him. He quickly tied Wheatley to his back and charged into the forest half-naked. The sun was nearly setting by this point, as it was just about to get darker by the moment. He'd skimmed through the thick forest running amock, unsure of where he was going. However, some kind of sense, or just a hallucination, made him stop, hearing a rush of footsteps and brushing against bushes. A flash of dark brown zoomed past him, Wheatley crying out about it. Damn this hurt, with no shoes or clothes other than his underwear. He continued running, pushing back leaves and bush that stood in his way, desperate to capture the thief. Doug didn't want to murder them, just wanted to get his clothes back. This was insane.

It was dark in the matter of ten minutes, but Doug didn't give up the chase that easily, although he was exhausted. A ping at the top of his mind kept watch on where the thief was going, she too, was still rather close. Cuts and bruises were all over Doug, panting...he'd forgotten to recast Oakflesh, a basic novice smell as he was far too abnormally focused on running. He'd ran and hid from Her for a long time, but this was worse. He was about to give up looking for his clothes when they came across an open clearing, on the side of a mountain. No wonder it was getting kind of steep. He took a deep breath and started climbing. The agony of it all, rocks poking his raw, red feet, his skin crawling and hairs sticking on end as he touched the cold surfaces. He shivered far worse than before.

"Douggy, I think we've strayed far from the Springs. I-I believe we should head back now...Wolfish Grin Lady might be wonderin' where we are yeah?" Said Wheatley.

Doug grunted as he ignored the core as he made sure he had three points of contact with the cliff at all times. He grazed his chest but didn't care. Eventually, he'd made it to an almost flat ground and panted and forced himself up. Taking a deep breath, walking had ensued, trekking down the darkened path in front of him. Fog breath was not an issue as Wheatley became concerned for his friend.

"I don't think this is wise...even for you. W-what is the point? I mean, yeah keep going n' all. But...but you're gonna get yourself killed mate! As for me...well, the worst that could happen was that I'd be sitting here until the cows come home. Where's your sense of appropriate paranoia? I-I know I'm very, very paranoid right now!"

The cores words weren't helping. Of course he was paranoid. He really was. But, if the Dragonborns words meant anything, he needed to overcome it. That Milk-Drinker...was in fact an insult fed by Nords to cowards. Yes, Doug admitted he was a big coward. He stopped and rested his hand on rock ledge for a break, inhaling, exhaling. It was getting harder to breath and it was getting to cold to move anymore. Wheatley was right. He should have listened to his instinct. Another flash of dark brown was up ahead, and disappeared just as quickly. He flung himself at the thief as they headed around to the left, breaking into a sprint, pushing past the pain. He'd spun around the corner and was slowly gaining pace. He was running so fast that he didn't realize that...

He'd almost fell over the cliff, his toes barely gripping, arms flailing before falling flat on his behind. His breathing intensified as he stood up. His mind wandered, brain started processing funny.

"Why'd you have to warn me about my problems?" Doug berated Wheatley. His mind was so..messed at this point. He began to hear laughter, childrens laughter behind him, then it soon echoed from all directions, freaking Doug out. Whispers blaming him with the wind running over his rough, wet skin, causing goosebumps to rise in an instant. Shivers went up his spin as he began to fall out of touch with reality.

"Doug...you're having another episode again...mate? Are you listening to me? Doug...oh-oh God, you've relapsed...mate listen to me! Ignore the kids...remember...breath...breath!"

Doug unstrapped Wheatley from his back and threw him on the ground, cowering and digging his nails into his scalp, murmuring, and from Wheatleys standpoint, he could hear bits and pieces of his words...something along the lines of 'Go away' and 'leave me alone.' He remembered the first time Doug had done this, well, the first time he'd seen it. His human memory had failed him, as would with certain normal humans. Never crossed Wheatley's mind to ask him at any time if Doug had remembered to take his medication. First would be the paranoia, then the obscene visions and hallucinations, the ultimate fear and entering into the fetal position, his words becoming jumbled and garbled, untranslatable. That time was lucky, since Doug and Wheatley were the only ones in the room at the time and Wheatley had found some bottles with some lying around. Doug had scoffed them down in no time flat, and soon felt...fine.

But this time...wasn't so lucky. Wheatley had tried to roll over to comfort his friend, who tried to start scraping his wrists with his nails. Somehow, the Core had pushed and whirled over, using his handle to thwack his fingers.

"No...s-stop that! You don't want to do that...it's disgusting...gross...besides, think of...um...well, you've had far, far worse than this Douggy. Far worse...um..."

Wheatley was annoyed he couldn't do anything at all, saddened by Doug's whimpering and shaking. He looked around, trying to call out to somebody, anybody that was nearby. He realized it was dark, and maybe he could try some Morse code. Yup. Turning on his trusty flash light, Wheatley then realized he'd have to sort through his files to see what the Morse code for..."Please help, come save us...please." Or something or rather...anything to get him out of the state he was in. He used his shutters as blinkers, making long and short blinks for the words as soon as he found his Morse code program. That SOS crap was pointless, never really ever saved lives since Wheatley knew it stood for Stop Obstructing Subjects, if he recalled correctly...since sometimes they were tempted to tell them the solution for the test but they weren't allow or the subject to electrical torture devices, which weren't pleasant at all. The strength to not allow his optic to wander off was needed to not pull and comfort Doug, as much as he wanted to.

"It's okay mate, I'm calling for help. Just...tell the children to go away...they're all weirdos with pink bows and dresses and their obscene obsession with picking their noses. Worse than adults really. And babies? Pfff...who needs em? Magical Pooping machines I call em. Just...lie back and think of Chell..."

Chell? Did he really just say that? No...he meant, Michelle, the nice old lady from accounting. What about Mel? She was a nice, blonde woman that Doug had taken a fancy to. Always wore blue...and he thought it complimented her features really well.

Wheatley had repeated the codes over and over again, but Doug was getting worse. He needed to make a decision on whether to keep going on just...foolishly attempt to calm Doug down. There was nothing around or anyone nearby to help him. Wheatley felt useless. If he had arms and legs he'd hug him, tell him everything was okay. Wheatley sighed and dragged himself to the whimpering human, tapping effortlessly on his shoulder with his handle, helpless.

His optic opened wide as he heard footsteps, scanning around for life. His circuits warmed. Somebody had come to save them! Finally!

"Oh thank goodness, you must have gotten my signal yes? Good...now, uh..my friend here isn't well...so if you...oh god..."

Wheatley heard a growl approaching. This...didn't sound like a human. Did humans usually growl like that? It crept closer and closer, Wheatley struggling to push himself to protect Doug, who turned to see the creature and, due to his illness, must have seen something far worse than there already was, as it towered over them both. It was not human at all as it held brown fur and...oh god. It's eyes...black as night but reflected the light of Wheatley's optic flashlight. Unsanitary fluid dribbled down from it's gaping spiky mouth. It had hulking muscles and it's shoulders seem to have odd, black spikes and button like orbs on them. It's claws unsheathed.

"ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR"

Wheatley rolled his optic around and sparked, frightened, but determinted to protect his friend. He attempted to swipe at them both, before a figure had jumped out of nowhere with a shiny, glistening off the flashlight, and sliced the monsters arm off, nice and clean, the arm giving off a pleasing thud on the hard, rocky ground. Wheatleys shutters were slide wide open.

"It-its you? It's really you! Oh thank goodness you found us! I-I warned him bu-"

"Shut up." Said the Dragonborn, her steel armored form now visible. "I'll deal with you both in a MINUUUUUUUUUUUUUTE!"

The Dragonborn roared with intense battle lust as she fought off the giant monster, stabbing it in the chest, withdrawing the sword out, before spinning and decapitating it. The monster fell backwards and rolled down the mountain. The Dragonborn gritted her teeth and hissed as she was still in her battlestance. She cleaned her sword on a cloth and sheathed it, standing back up and turning towards the helpless Doug. Walking over, she squatted before him and pulled his scruffy black hair out his face, her face immediantly changing from angry and bloodlust to one of deep concern, albeit it was subtle, but Doug could tell it was there, out of all the things he could see, the Dragonborns face had brought assuring light into the darkness of his condition. He shook violently, with the incoherent words babbling out of his mouth, his eyes full of sorrow and dread.

"Wheatley..." She worded out, straight, calm and yet uplifting from the cores point of view.

"Oh uhh...he was hearing noises...then...hit his head...quite hard actually...then it turns out some thief had stolen his clothes...the nerve of some people. I mean, really...out of all the things...especially in a place like this..."

"Do you know what the thief looked like?" The Dragonborn asked. Another straightforward question.

Wheatley looked down, deep in thought. "Brown mostly. Had a hood. Didn't see their face...sorry love, that's all I can tell ya."

The Dragonborn nodded. "Thanks...all I need to know." She said. After that, her head lowered closer to his face, trying to make sense of his jabbering. She knew exactly who Wheatley was talking about. It was something she was going to deal with...personally. Not now however...she had enough things to deal with for one day. All she needed to do now was this.

"Are you gonna help him? He's had this before...I've seen it...it's his...condition. Quite nasty...awful...he breaks down quite hard if he hasn't had his medication...some humans have them, I think...but he's the only I know who has it..."

The Dragonborn pursed her lips. He looked desperate for it to stop. Face wrenching, fingers twitching. He was cold and near-naked. Yes...this was definitely cruel. She slowly, and reluctantly, placed her palm on his cheek. He was extremely cold.

"Please...they're screaming at me...the daughters...the daughters are screaming at me..." Doug babbled out, his tone quite frantic and graveled.

A swallow went down her throat. A poor man...she realized. Never wanted this...never deserved it. Thrown, kidnapped. It wasn't right. Most people would get over it eventually and move on with their lives. That was just how Skyrim was. It was a harsh land thriving on the notion that they were far worse things out there than meddlesome politics and murder. Skyrim was a cruel, cold and unforgiving mistress at that. Doug was thrown in the deep end at the middle of his life, cold, alone and scared half to death. But yet, he still remained with a subtle kindness that lay deep within. A newfound chapter in his life could allow him to become stronger, but for now he was still very very weak. More training had to be done.

She'd stood up suddenly, and turned away, with Doug reaching out and grabbing her leg.

"Please don't leave me here." He cried. "Their voices...I can't stand them."

The Dragonborns face didn't change. She wasn't showing sadness or anger, but her eye spoke more than her mouth did. She forced him off her leg, with Wheatley's glare digging into her.

"ARE YOU MAD? ARE YOU JUST LEAVING HIM HERE? OI! COME BACK HERE!"

Wheatley yelled, furious. "It's okay Douggy, good ol' Wheatleys here..."

Why had she abandoned them? Right now? Why? It filled Doug with that word...over and over again as the voices was just...unbearable. He thought he could trust her and even...maybe.

It angered him, pounding his fist into the ground. Death wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Holding her back...he dreaded it. Wheatley tried to give him some comfort. It was welcomed, but failed to do much else. His head moved as the sound of clopping made it's way to his ear. He wasn't sure if it was part of the hallucination, but they seemed to be getting closer now. He almost bit his tongue, holding his ears with his hands, wimpering and still babbling, shaking violently and holding his legs in tight. Wheatley's assurances kept going, as he repeated his comfort to him.

Suddenly he saw a horse heading in their direction, moving its backside around to show it's side. The Dragonborn hopped off. More screams pestered and festered, calling Doug's name over and over and distracting him over and over again, Wheatley noticing his condition had worsened. Wheatley used his handles to climb over his chest and stop him from attempting to scratch his hands. A drip of water pushed past his optic. Looking up, there were overhanging clouds. More drops, blurring his vision. Wheatley grumbled as he turned to the Dragonborn.

"You weren't really abandoning us after all? You were just bringing the horse? Ahh man alive, you really frightened me then love! So...what's the plan?" He asked eagerly.

The Dragonborn had taken some bags off Kodlak. "We're setting up camp here."

"Camp?" Wheatley repeated. "Ohh...camping...great...still doesn't help Douggy though."

The Dragonborn grumbled. "No you idiot...we're resting here for the night...preparing shelter for us. Unless you prefer me to throw you off the cliff and let the wolves have their way with you."

Wheatley shirked. "N-n-no...I'll be good, I'll be good."

She shook her head as she nudged her head to the small cave nearby. She walked over and started setting up a safety tent and laid out a leather futon, as Wheatley recognized it. She had a few sheets that were hanging off Kodlak and shoved them inside. The cave looked big enough to fit Kodlak in as she put the horse inside, allowing him to rest his legs. She loved her horse enough to want to make sure he didn't get caught in the rain, which is was started to do heavily. The cave was etched into the mountain side, and the cliffs edge they were on overlooked the top of the nearby forest, giving the Dragonborn enough leeway in case Dragons came by. Next came picking Wheatley up and putting him inside, then picking up Doug by the shoulders and wrapping his arm around her neck. He moaned and muttered repeatedly, as she dragged him inside the cave, dropping him on the "Futon." As Wheatley put it. She got the red blanket and draped it across his body, tucking him in. She reached for one of her bags on Kodlak and pulled out a small vial, popping the cork off of it. Wheatley scanned the liquid inside, an odd colouring, swirling red within, making him wonder if it was safe to drink. She leaned towards Doug's head as she had squatted back down, and tapped his cheek.

"Hey...open your gob..." She told him.

Doug's lower law quivered as he opened it and non-rhythmically closed it, forcing the Dragonborn to grab hold of his chin and shove the open end part of the vial down his throat.

"Drink...then swallow..."

Doug coughed slightly, the Dragonborn persistent and leaving the vial in there. It didn't look tasty, from what Wheatley was observing, but he had his watchful optic on the pair. Soon the Dragonborn took the empty vial out and closed his mouth. Her piercing eyes forced him to swallow it all up, as tears ran down his weary face, fingers trembling. The Dragonborns grip was forceful but it didn't hurt. Doug's eyelids fluttered briefly, before closing. His breath returned to normal intervals, soft and calm as they should be. The rain was pouring heavier now, the Dragonborn watching the water run off the edge of the cave. As soon as Doug was completely asleep, she combed the hair out of his face again, and re-tucked the blanket, as she stared him with eyes Wheatley saw as worried. She pursed her lips again, before sitting at the edge of the tent, watching the rain fall. Wheatley sat next to her, as she glanced to the open fall.

"Maybe...maybe I should have warned you about his...episodes..." Wheatley said, rather disjointedly.

The Dragonborn rubbed her chin. "I had heard of his illness. He really belongs down in the Ratway Dungeons after all."

Wheatley looked at her with scorn.

"Really? After what you saw?" He berated. "That's...that's just mean. Y-you of his condition and then all of a sudden you decide he's some sort of freak! Well listen up you I..."

"You really think I would? By the Nine you really are an idiot..." The Dragonborn stated.

Wheatley looked away. "I uh...suppose...what was that stuff you gave him anyway?" He asked.

The Dragonborn whisked a glance down the bottle neck of the vial, squinting.

"It's just a potion..."

Wheatley turned off his flashlight, not really needing it anymore. "Potions and magic...magic and potions...this world...more of a great fantasy land..."

The Dragonborn rose an eyebrow, cracking open a bottle of ale and taking a sip.

"Fantasy? This place is a deathtrap." She pointed out.

"Then why live here? I mean, that monster that you...got rid of..." Wheatley continued.

She pulled her hair behind her eyes and fiddled with the bottle. "A troll..." She answered. She went on to his previous question.

"It's a lifestyle choice. For me that is...I'm compelled to live out my life in the place I was born and raised in. My abilities are needed here, in a deathtrap land. It could use a lot more heroes by the look of it. Plus we have roots, and the Nordic challenge it brings to us. My people used to come from a far colder continent up north, called Atmora. But that...was thousands of years ago."

Wheatley nodded. "Fascinating that...wow...though. I mean, I haven't read that many books...not to say I haven't read at all...all I know about humans is that they can die...uh...they have skin...yup...and uh...their eyes...nose...ears and mouth...and their hair which seems to gray when they get older...for some reason. Their bodies...actually, maybe you can answer this question for me..."

The Dragonborn leaned forward. Wheatley was an...interesting person. What ever he was, it was like there was a spirit possessing a magical ball, and wondered if he had a broken soul gem, with one of those souls that took control. Nonetheless, he was a bit of a moron in her eyes, but he had good intentions, evidenced by his friendship with Doug, the way he cared. But she sensed bit of a sadness within him. And both him and Doug seem to know this one person whom is constantly talked about, but never seen.

"This-this question might seem a bit silly. I tried to ask Doug earlier, but kinda...dodged the question if you know what I mean?"

The Dragonborn was apathetic but didn't seem to mind. "Ask away."

"Finally..." He said, relieved. "Okay, okay...what's the difference between males and females.? I mean, they're both humans with small, microscopic oddities...Douggy said there were, like, hundreds of them...hundreds of them and I honestly have no idea where to start...so...you, being a female, I'm gathering, strong, tough...uh...I get that...I get that...uh..."

The Dragonborn smirked...a small smirk but it was there. "Alright then. Females...females..."

This...ball was becoming extremely amusing. His curious nature obviously not well versed with the humanoid form. Moron yes, but she could find her own form of entertainment she hadn't had in a long time. Doug was asleep so that was okay. And it was raining so there wasn't much else to do...and she didn't want to abandon them to the risk of being eaten by wolves or bears. If he didn't understand the human body, then she felt comfortable of letting him know of of the more well-known differences.

She took off her armor, revealing a small, dirty, green yellow top underneath, that seemed to have the circular collar, and a small slit cut in the middle, and short sleeves and placed the armor next to her. Wheatley looked at her curiously, examining the orbs on her chest.

"Ah...they look familiar...she had them too...it's funny...did you know they bounce? I mean, it's incredible! They're almost hypnotic at times! I used to watch her solve these tests right, and and when became rather..active I must say that's when they happened...yup..."

There he goes again. This mysterious...woman that they keep talking about. Another in the untold, unheard stories of Doug and Wheatley...and that Space...thing...where ever it was. She missed a bit, but then again, it's rambles were quite annoying after all. Other than that, eventually, she believed, that their tale will unfold in its own time. She would need to focus on her own for the time being. She bit her lip, but wasn't going to regret what she was going to do. Wheatley was just so...alien and abstract to the entire ordeal that it didn't offend her at all. Actually she seemed to love to scare and intrigue people into doing things they never had done before, considerably one of the Nord ways was taking risks...which involved doing something new and unfounded, whisked away into the unknown and finding your true self amongst the good and the bad. Your spirit would shine through both. But this was neither good, or bad. A game, an experience...a test as he would constantly put it. A test on a child minded creature who didn't know any better. Voice and tone were adult-like, but in personality? It was confusing. His visage of a middle aged man, but trivial knowledge of a twelve year old, asking such questions about the world. So in the end, uplifting. She grabbed Wheatley, much to his surprise. Perhaps this would get him to spill about the mysterious woman. She placed him on her lap, and leaned on him. He was a male...regardless of what you knew, the feel of her top of a male would be irresistable. Of course she disregard a certain few, but for now, spill. Not too quickly, but a bit of about her would be nice. Enough to absorb the information, like learning a Shout. He shuddered underneath his plates then stopped.

"Of course! That's what it felt like! When we're heading through those catwalks and...uh, when she carried me. Quite the unique experience I assure you. Nothin' like it! I guess...uh, females have these and males don't yeah?" Wheatley said, elated.

The Dragonborn nodded. "So...she was quite the skilled individual hm?" She asked. She wouldn't mind meeting this woman in battle by the sounds of it.

Wheatley switched his optic over to look at her from below. "You kidding me right love? She was as skilled as skilled can be...for all my observational points of view. I'd recorded it...from many, many angles..."

She smiled as he went on and on all the things that his mysterious woman had done. It impressed actually, wanting to meet up with this particular, risk taking person. A challenger. They talked into the night about random things in their trouble filled lives, with Wheatley's own full of their own surprises. Still, she hardly revealed much about herself. Not much to tell than what she's told Doug.

"So...can I get a name? You know, for future reference? S-so I can...well...it's complicated."

The Dragonborn chuckled. This conversation was extremely familiar.

"Some call me the Dragonborn." She stated.

Odd to Wheatley, he had to add. "Dragonborn? Like, one of your parents once...uh...a-a Dragon?" He said, a bit of nerve underneath his plates. Justified of course, as this...Dragonborn was unpredictable. As for her, she'd had these questions before to those who didn't know the whole story. But from him she let it slide for now.

"Or is it one of those metaphorical names, like Igor the Terrible or Wheatley the Great?"

She had another name for the strange ball, but kept it in check.

"There's a story for it...but I think we should save it for another time. Are you tired?" She asked.

"Tired?" He said, as if offended. "I'm a bloody Personality core love! I don't feel like you humans do...well, in that so called tired sense. But I can go into a power save mode if that's what you're getting at..."

More words she didn't understand...a sort of lingo from their point of origin. She shrugged.

"Go do that then. Go into your...power save mode."

Wheatley nodded. "Sure! I can do that! Just...hang on a tic...gotta remember where the switch was Ah! There it i-..."

His shutters quickly closed as she felt his warmth cool a bit, with no light emitting from anywhere on his persons. Rolling her eyes, she tucked him in next to Doug. What ever he was, she knew most forms would require tucking into a blanket. Doug unconsciously draped his arm over the ball, or Core as he put it and hugged onto it. If it weren't for her tough exterior, the Dragonborn would have expressed a type of awwwing that would occur. Instead she went back to her guarding post and was willing until sunrise.

* * *

**MEANWHILE.**

During that entire time, the Space Core had rolled down the mountain, screaming, but it his usual, chatter about being taken back to space. For moments he'd fallen until falling optic first into the snow below. Even then he kept muttering, until he heard footsteps, accompanied by a shadow overcasting him. He was picked up and tried to get a good look at his new..well, Space Astronaut even if they weren't.

"Ah hello there...I am the Spaceborn as was foretold...in space..." He said. They were in an odd sort of dark and golden robes, before placing the space core underneath their arm and running off down the darkened path with it.


	6. Hunters and Thieves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragonborn learns more about Doug. Doug and Wheatley learn about Alchemy.

 

It was a long night. Heavy rain didn't do much to ease matters, hearing the pitter patters against the rocky surface, with water gushing down hard like a mini waterfall. It was serene, however, as she had occasionally glanced back down on the sleeping, scruffy man and his talking ball, looking like he was having less than happy dreams, a major contrast to how he was acting hours before. Doug had been bewitched by an unknown spell, being a position of pure weakness. The Dragonborn couldn't fathom it, for what he had been through. She perceived his rising and falling chest, meaning his heart rate was at its slow and steadiest, despite the minor twitches. She gave a subtle nod, having done her job, thanks to her sharp eye that had caught on to the balls blue, flashing light in the distance when she was returning back from Riften. Instinct drove her to their location and upon seeing Doug shriveled up like a lost child, had given her guilt with leaving him there. But she couldn't have possibly predicted this at any given rate. It almost made her earlier feeling drift away, but it somehow clung on as hard as it could, knowing what she had done previously. She knew the importance of keeping some business to herself.

She figured the darkness and the rain wouldn't give away their position, so she stripped down to her skins and burst out into her beastly wolf form, scurrying away in the woods after every bit of her was covered with thick, dull brown fur. By this time it was nearing on to the hour of sunrise, after sitting at her post for many hours. This is to her unable to sleep normally, her patterns that had become erratic since first drinking Aela's blood on that fateful night. Not that she minded though, her constant awareness was crucial and kept her on guard all the times. Rain drops smashed against her furry figure that was pelting along at top speed. As soon as she was at a far enough distance, she sniffed the air, her breathing synonymous with low growls. She double whiffed past the smell of mud and wet leaves and realized there was a soaked fur stench that smelt different to her own. Judging by it's low potency, it had to be an elk. At least, it had to be quite a few paces away.

She carefully crawled, desperate for silence and hoped the rain's hardening noise would block the sound of her footsteps. Luckily, the mushiness of the mud seemed to have had that down pat, leaving less to worry about. Her nose twitched and she heightened her eye sight to be on the look out for the lone meal, waiting for her to jump and snatch it. Elk's made ordinary meals but it was better than nothing. Rabbit was nice, but there was never enough meat on them, so she had to capture several when the occasion called for it. Wasn't quite their breeding season yet, but come the next few months, there were more in stock.

Fish were tasty when they were big and juicy and melted in the mouth. Especially the salmon. Oh that was to die for. She'd jokingly smelled for other elves in the area, since they were especially delicious. Incidentally, she smelt something of a familiar elven origin. It was from a distance, but it was there. It was...oddly small, quaint and something she'd sniffed before. She twisted and turned, brushing into the thick woods and following the trail that it had so kindly left. She came to a halt as another scent sifted through her nose. Hostile, moving. Her ears picked up the sound, flicking upward and honing in on it. She kept going, keeping her long head low. She detected movement up ahead and stayed in a crouched position, hiding behind some bushes. Lifting her head, she could see faint light hanging in the air. Once she adjusted for vision, a Fort had framed itself to her. She wasn't sure which Fort it was, but it was wedged on the side of a mountain, holding three watch towers, sensing several people keeping on the look out in this terrible weather. A stronger scent was nearby once she sniffed again. It angered her greatly, an intense stench that built a rage within, threatening to let it loose. Her ears perked up as she heard howling, it's isolated sounds were coming from the fort itself. She had her suspicions, but now she could confirm it.

The Silver-Hand.

Her entire body shook with rage, with heart palpitations influx with short, heated and heavy breaths. Claws were itching to dig into the flesh of those who dare cross the Harbinger and her fellow Companions. The stench was a mixture of werewolf fur and sweat off the disgusting bodies of the members. The Dragonborn could imagine, their sharp, rusty knives cleaving into the hides of the beasts, tearing them off and torturing them, simply because they were unnatural, out of order of the Gods. It was a life choice for the Harbinger. She chose to be a werewolf and was proof she had the entire curse under control. A gift, according to moral of Aela's chosen words. Her claws slammed and scratched a nearby tree, letting off some steam. She couldn't go in alone. No. She was out for the hunt. Purely for the hunt. It pained her and her heart sank as cries of pain hollowed out of the cracks of the rocky, broken fort. Those Werewolves may not be her Shield-Brothers or sisters, but they had a curse weighed down on them for one reason or another and they did not deserve to be treated like that. She looked up into the sky as the rain fell on her face. She tried to sync her distressed howling with the next closest crash of thunder, for the fallen to be mourned. There wasn't much she could do, when she had other things to take of. She made note of where this fort was and made an in-head promise to avenge them...

She remembered the last Harbingers words...and it ended up getting him killed over her actions. Yes...if his spirit in Sovngarde was watching over her, his whispers of wisdom would advise her to walk away from this mess and only deal with the Silver-Hand if they attacked them first. The Dragonborn smashed her fist into the ground and sucked air in deeply. She had to track the elks trail. Leaning her head down close to the mud, her nose twitched as she sniffed. A small grin crossed her snarling face as she bolted on all fours, getting a lead.

She'd climbed up a hill back in the woods, past all the fog and watched trees wizz by her. She'd stopped as the rain slowly and achingly receded. Good...less noise to focus on. Her head whipped over as she heard minor shuffles and scuffles, the elk most likely pressing against bushes. The Dragonborn had a hunch that the elk knew she was following it. Didn't bother her. Best part of the game was the chase, where speed and agility was key, a prominent skill. Ah only of Aela was here, she could join the hunt. Love it to bits.

The only bad note about the rain's disappearance was the Dragonborn had to be extra quiet. Her warm breaths had to be less noisy, her entire body was almost crawling, dodging foliage as she re-picked up the scent. It wasn't too far now, the smell getting more and more potent. She was filthy, she was muddy, but be damned this wasn't the greatest part of it. With extreme patience, the Dragonborn had spotted the elk several meters ahead. It's large, wide and pointy horns indicated it was a dominating male, it's mane ruffling about in the gentle breeze. It seemed quite agitated and alert to anything. She made sure she was working down wind, not allowing the four legged creature detect her by scent. Low scuffles kept her close to her target.

A high speed, sharp sound pierced the air and shot the Elk in the head. The Dragonborn lifted her head as the creature fell over. A new smell arose, one she hadn't smelled before. Fleeing behind a bush, she became fearful it was a local hunter doing an early morning hunt. She kept her breathing to a minimum, as sloshed footsteps came from the same distance. The smell was getting closer. Through the bushes she honed in on her vision and lightly sniffed the air. It was bipedal at least, humanoid. She'd suspected as much, with their hood covering their head and despite the darkness. could see it was brown. It was no hunter.

She waited as the person stopped in their tracks and plopped something on top of the the elk itself. Silence awaited them, the wind hollowing throughout as the fog rose. Her nose twitched as her hearing was left on hyper-awareness. This...person was deathly quiet themselves, before walking away, and judging from scent and the fort she was at, they were heading back to Riften. As soon as they disappeared for good, the Dragonborn crawled out of the bushes and up to the Elk. It's empty eyes, whisked away in it's death, but she was more interested in what they had dropped on it. She picked it up and gave it a sniff. Her head retracted, recognizing where it had come from. Looking around, the Dragonborn became wary of the situation. Clasping a golden gauntlet and directing her nose of it made her believe this belonged to Doug. Whomever had stolen it, must have given it back. Or found it. Or something.

Petty thieves.

She knew the Thieves Guild wouldn't feel guilty about stealing anything. Or else they wouldn't be thieves. Perhaps they discovered Doug's plight whilst running away, if she imagined the scenario correctly, according to Wheatley's description. But at least they had a conscience. Doug's episode had well informed her that he was far more dangerous to himself if anything. She knew he'd have to be protected until he decided what he was going to do. She was perplexed he hadn't said anything about returning to his homeland, Aperture or what ever it was called. Didn't sound like a pleasant place.

She looked down at her prey. There was a proverb about hitting two birds with one stone. This was it.

The Dragonborn had whisked the clothing in her teeth, whilst dragging the elk's corpse to their current camp. Looking up into the sky, it was slightly brighter. She had to hurry back and reverse her form before they awoke. It was still quite dark however and she thanked her nose for taking her back there, following her own trail. But the elk was bulky and there was a struggle to get it back. Nonetheless it was eventually achieved, the Dragonborn leaving it on the edge of the rocky cliff, before taking the advantage to change into her human form. She grabbed her clothes and armor and dressed quickly, leaving Doug's clothes in front of the cave. Next, she went back into the woods, but not before heading to her supplies bag and grabbing an axe. Scouring the tall trees, she found a nice small enough one the looked like it could be used. She'd chopped it off, then chopped it into smaller pieces.

Rocks and things were found and put into a small circle. Preparing a fire wasn't too hard. Once it was prepared she set up breakfast to be cooked. A simple flame spell lit the fire as she grabbed a dagger and started carving the Elk. Standard procedure she was sure, and simple cooking of meat was all she could pull off. Normally, she'd leave the cooking to her housecarl, since the more exquisite recipes were the ones she couldn't handle, so Lydia normally did them instead, or she'd head over to Jorrvaskr for meat and ale, as she watched and took bets in the brawls between her fellow Companions. She was tempted to join them, but as Harbinger she had to mediate the peace, which annoyed her. Vilkas didn't like it, but due to healing spells it wasn't hard to patch people up.

His twin brother Farkas however...he followed mostly what his brother did, more of a follower than a leader in himself. Nicer than smarter in his own opinion. But his nice nature was what attracted the Dragonborn to him. But a number of reasons refrained her from making a move. She had no idea what love was all about. Of course she knew the procedures for marriage and so forth, but she couldn't belay the message to him about it. Besides, it would ramble her reputation, according to her own stubborness. Or what ever else she felt. It wasn't wrong persay, but means she would select favourites amongst the Companions.

In the end, she had no idea why she wouldn't do it and felt like she was just making excuses. Maybe when Skyrim becomes less lethal to her people, perhaps she would settle down. But for now, she needed battle, she cared more for the slaughter and the power that it had, twisting blades into her enemies and shouting at them, her taunts justifying in her brutal ways. With that thought, she began violently poking the elk meat in the spit she held over the flames, occasionally turning it over so the other side would be cooked. The smell was appetizing. Her head lifted as she heard Doug stirring about in the cave. She had sat cross legged, leering over to the caves occupants.

* * *

It was a terrible night sleep but it was better than nothing. It wasn't a lack of sleep that made it terrible, but it was just a nightmare that had drifted through unknowingly, a pit drawing in his stomach. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and his scruffy chin, waiting for the blurs to disappear and his eyesight to return. There was a chill drifting in from outside as it got brighter and brighter. His nose hairs twitched as the elk meat smoke headed in his direction. Patting his chest down, Dougs' eyes widened to the prospect of his nakedness under the red sheets.

An alarm sounded from Wheatley's speakers, alerting the Core, freaking him out slightly.

"Ah I'm awake! I'm awake! I'm definitely awake now!" He said frantically. His optic rolled around.

"Uhh oh...it's morning. What an odd shut down period. I actually thought I was beginning to dream there."

Doug leaned over and coughed, scratching his head and brushing his hair back with his palms. His neck cracked and bones ached. He looked forward and outside of the cave where he could see his clothes. Blinking, he lifted his blanket up to see if he was wearing any underwear. Much to his relief, he could see dark blue boxer shorts. Nodding, he crawled out from underneath the sheets and snatched his robes. His eyes squinted with confusion, as he sniffed his clothes.

"Why do my clothes smell like a combination of garbage and blood?" Doug asked, voice slightly hoarse.

The Dragonborn ignored him and kept tending to the spit. Wheatley shuffled himself beside Doug, surprised to see the clothes at all.

"Oh...oh wow...that's great. Now you don't have to walk around stark naked anymore. As I mentioned yesterday...don't want you getting sick on us...we may still a full day ahead of us...I think."

A sharp pain swam through his head, face wrenching in minor agony as rubbed the back of his head again. What did he do last night?

"I need a drink." He said. "Preferably not alcohol."

Despite the stench of a dead animal on his robes, a simple, Stare of Stabbing forced him to put it on, nearly making him puke. Strapping on his boots and and gauntlets, Doug's stomach growled.

"And some food...which I'm gathering why you have have spit over an open fire."

The Dragonborn smirked. "There's a river nearby. Don't touch anything else...and beware of mud crabs and slaughterfish. If you come back and I see jaws clamped onto your ass, then it's your own fault."

Doug retreated to the river in the direction that she pointed at, while Wheatley had somehow positioned himself near the fire, glancing at the wispy flames, then at the smoking elk meat on the spit. He had no nose, nor did he want one. He suspected elements of charcoal and perhaps little to no tender meat at all. All he fed the test subjects was a type of mushy slop that had enough nutrients to provide them for the rest of their days. When they awoke that was. Even then, he never really made sure he'd given them enough or too much. They'd get these weird looks on their faces as he placed their plastic bowls on their tables. He'd leave before they'd suddenly run into their bathrooms. Some sort of odd ritual he gathered.

"Hey love I've been doing some thinking...that Dragonborn name of yours? Too long...far too long. Can I call you Debbie? You know, like say you put the letters D and B next to each other and you put them together real fast right?"

Debbie was a stupid name, but didn't mind if he shortened it to DB. Another name to add to the rank of her initial titles. Made her feel like her importance was rising and would lead to many stories of those wondering, if that one person did all those things. She was certainly keen on getting herself into the memories of history that's for sure. If that's what being Dragonborn truly meant.

"Oh and one thing about Douggy's episodes..." Wheatley whispered sadly, changing his train of thought.

"He doesn't remember them...so to avoid getting him upset, don't talk about it...which is why I tend to make them up...although some how he always seems to figure out I'm lying about what he did...so clever and I thought the great Wheatley was the best kind of liar!"

Memory loss over a type of near-convulsing and violent fit? Logically that would make sense. She left things as is as she cooled the fire a little with a small pail of water.

"He was mentioning children...daughters in fact. I thought that was strange...wonder if he had a wife and kids..." She thought.

Wheatley shook his optic. "No no...I don't recall him getting married...I-I think he's referring to the Bring your Daughter to Work Day incident...nasty piece of business that."

"I'm guessing something tragic happened... a lot of people died...including daughters of these...workers." The Dragonborn theorized in a know it all, sarcastic toned way. She wasn't wrong about that as Wheatley nodded. The ball refrained from speaking further of the incident, obviously worried about spilling too much information on his friend. The Dragonborn didn't mind, she would prefer to hear it from Doug himself. When the time came that is.

It wasn't long before Doug came back, feeling a bit better and more refreshed after cleaning himself slightly. Despite the lack of soap, the cold rush of the rapids was better than nothing, wiping off dirt and grit that had been caught up in his messy, scruffy hair. Hmm...maybe there were razors here so he could finally get to shaving that annoying, itchy beard off. Not that it was too itchy...it'd been forever since he'd last shaved. The times of where his hair was shorter, sleeker, a lighter tone of brown. His face, less gaunt and his eyes...well, pretty much exactly the same, probably getting worse with the fading of his sanity. But nearly every male in Skyrim seemed to have the need for the chin brushes. So he left it, in order to feel like one of them...okay, not to be repressed for not having one. The best beards have the best power. Or that was just J'zargo's tendency to make stuff up to make himself look good, since he was furry all over.

The aroma of of slightly over cooked meat touched his nostrils, making his stomach grumble. He sat down and crossed his legs. He was so hungry, haven't not eaten much since yesterday morning. Although last night was bit of a blur, he'd hoped he hadn't gotten drunk again. The Dragonborn had this tendency to give him ale or wine or mead and liked letting him get loose. Doug hated it, thought it impeded his study of fine magics. They dug into the elk flesh, the Dragonborn wolfing down the meat like a beast, earning feared eyes from Doug who nibbled on his meat carefully.

"You look hungrier than me." He commented.

The Dragonborn looked up from her loaf, mouth full of rough and fast chewing of flesh, her face riddled with bits of charcoal. "Sho?" She commented. "I eassh like thish all the time."

Her piece was larger than his own, spinning it around to get to the most juicy nooks and crannies. The fat was where it was at. Wheatley blinked.

"Is-is this what you call a...good metabolism?" Wheatley wondered.

Doug nodded. "Yeah...you must be one of those types who eat and eat and never get fat."

"Metabawhassh?" Said the Dragonborn through her mouthful.

"Metabolism. It's a process we go through. Some people burn energy quickly and therefore need a lot of kilojoules in order to support it." Doug explained, boasting his light of scientific arrogance.

It was another bizarre word. Metabolism. Kilojoules. All buzzwords or words originating from their country of origin. Aperture must be one weird place. Her mind went blank from trying to process, leaving her garbling and staring into Doug with a dropped lip, bits of meat falling out of her mouth. Doug swore he heard crickets chirping. Then again...

"One quick question love..." Said Wheatley, who's optic was tilted back slightly. "There seems to be something stuck in your ear...it isn't mold is it? Cause I read that high humidity can cause mushrooms to grow inside your head..."

Doug leered at Wheatley strangely. "Who told you that?"

The Dragonborn started to quickly clean her ear. After twisting her finger in it a few times, she came up with small bits of grey fur. She looked at the two argue and ramble on. With that distraction she flicked the fur away. That was close.

"Craig was declared an idiot who was immediately called corrupted. There is something about mushrooms, ears and humidity that go hand in hand however so..."

"SHUT UP!" Roared the Dragonborn. Both made gulping sounds at the same time.

"We're heading back to Whiterun. Now."

Doug didn't know what was wrong with the Dragonborn. She seemed grumpier, upon closer inspection. More than usual of course. For once he could see bags under her eyes, fixated on what she had done. Climbing on the horse and wrapping his arms around her waist after strapping Wheatley on board. Very briefly as he was bumped, his chin rested on her shoulder, that he made a quick whiff of her hair that had him almost gag. She smelt like a wet dog. What had she been doing was none of his business however.

* * *

After digging her heels into Kodlak, the path to Whiterun took a few hours from where they were. They went back to the same rocky path, Doug musing at the amazing views he was getting of the snowy mountains that seemed to form a crater around Skyrim, cradling the sky in their wake. A weak chill filled the air, but the enchantments to his robes prevented him from feeling the full brunt of it. Hours passed, as they came out into the open plains of Whiterun Hold, revealing the cold tundra of brown bushels that were scattered across. This looked familiar of course, Doug reminisced back to a few weeks ago, where the Dragonborn had saved him from those brutish bandits. However, it looked far better in the day time, the sight of glorious Dragonsreach sitting in the Cloud District always a fantastic sight to see, glistening in the sunlight as the Dragonborn rode Kodlak like the wind.

Upon arrival, Doug had recognized some of the places more clearly as civilians walked passed, coming across the local Khajiit caravan. He became wary, his hunch and paranoia telling him something wasn't right with them. He knew he couldn't confide in the Dragonborn about it.

They had gotten through the big gates that were well guarded and stepped inside the cobblestone walls of the, according to books he had read, the trade center of Skyrim. Looking around, there were people everywhere, a sight that was well differed to when one would look at the low population count of Winterhold. But everyone here seemed so lively, and chatty. The walls, Doug felt, gave them the senses of comfort and safety. It...made him feel weird. He hadn't been around so many people before...since before the demise of his coworkers. Not to mention he was getting claustrophobic. He looked at dirty-grey, wooden tinged buildings and their yellow thatched roofs. It reminded him of vikings again. He then detected there was the vibe of the people...no fear. Another hunch, he noted. He wasn't sure he was going to like it here. Even the children looked so intimidating.

The Dragonborn walked them to the second building on the right. She took out a key from her bag and put it in the lock.

"Welcome home."

Turns out this was her house! Breezehome, as she so called it. It was humble enough, with a fire in the middle and a set of stairs that led to the second floor. Floorboards creaked underneath them as Doug stood there, holding Wheatley in his arms.

"Well, make yourselves at home." Said the DB. She headed towards the stairs then stopped.

"Sit down..."

Doug flicked out of his trance and sat on a chair by the nice warm fire, looking around..shelves...windows...cupboards...looking up was a rail full of what he could tell were their version of condiments. After that warm meal this morning, he wasn't too sure if he'd eat her food again. Nothing was really cleaned properly. Then again, giving the place he was in and their technological progress, he really had no choice in the matter. Eat or starve. A stomach ache from parasites inside spoiled foods...would make it a lot more uncomfortable, since their version of a rest room was a little hole out the back or a pot underneath the bed. Doug found himself tense as he placed Wheatley on the chair beside him.

"Ahh a home...finally." Wheatley commented. "Even crazy women need homes."

Doug heard footsteps above him and wondered if the Dragonborn heard it. He then heard them by the steps and looked over, seeing a differently faced woman approaching them.

"Hello there." She said. She wearing similar armor to the Dragonborn, even their hair was similar. But her face appeared sharper than the Dragonborns and had thinner eyes.

"Greetings there Love." Said Wheatley. The woman was surprised by the core's movement and the fact he could talk.

"So she wasn't kidding about the talking ball." She said sarcastically. "Names Lydia. I am the attending Housecarl for my Thane."

Doug nodded as he stood up and lent his hand, she happily responded and shook it.

"Greetings Lydia. I am Doug. Doug Rattmann. I am...um...am a friend of your Thanes?" He said unsurely. Confidence wasn't really his strong point, nor did he have the greatest ability of proper human interaction since Aperture.

Lydia grinned. "Yes she mentioned that. She's just going to be in her room for a bit. Feel free to have a bite to eat or drink. Just...don't go smashing things okay? I'll be in my room upstairs if you need me. I'm behind the first door on the right. The Dragonborns room is when you walk up the stairs, turn around and head for the double doors. But I'm warning you...don't disturb her."

Wheatley had a curious appetite for some reason. "Well I don't really eat love...or drink...but I am utmost interested if you had any info on our friend here? You know...like, what does she like, dislike...how do you get on her goodside so she doesn't hurt us?"

Lydia laughed. "Hoping to woo her are you? There's a Temple in Riften that'll assist you with that." She joked.

Doug smiled nervously, hoping like hell the Dragonborn wasn't listening in to their conversation.

"I think what he was saying was that what's it like to serve?"

They had a nice chat about the Dragonborn...although there wasn't much to tell. She served her province well. She then diverted the subject and talked about Whiterun, and it's different sections that intrigued Doug. Ultimately, it was home. Well protected and liked, and it's Jarl was honorable. He'd selected the Dragonborn as a Thane after her efforts to procure a stone tablet for the study of Dragons...as well as fighting off the Dragon that originally attacked the Western Watchtower.

The Dragonborn came back down and had her pierced glance at the group.

"Are they behaving?" She asked Lydia.

The Housecarl stood up. "Yes My Thane."

The Dragonborn crossed her arms, her pressed gaze on the pair. She then walked over to Doug.

"Here...take some more gold. I need to head to Jorrvaskr. You know, Harbinger business. I should be back later. Take a trip around town or whatever. Just don't get up to too much trouble okay? And what ever you do...don't you dare go outside these walls for what ever reason. I'll have Lydia slit your throat before you do that...isn't that right Lydia?"

"Yes my Thane." Replied Lydia, with fake eagerness.

The Dragonborn nodded and smirked. "Good. Now...I shall be off. A Harbingers needs to get her shit done."

Doug relaxed in his chair and rubbed his head as she left out the door. It was nice of her to let them walk around town. He needed to sit down for a bit. He felt a sudden need to draw again. He looked up at Lydia, who was chuckling.

"Uh...love? Anything you want to explain with all that laughing? Did I pull a muscle?" Asked Wheatley.

Doug notice her shoulders fall, her face lit up.

"My Thane isn't a nasty person. She's just honestly concerned for your welfare. I hadn't seen her treat someone like that with that tone. When she takes me on some of her errands, I normally hear that when she taunts her enemies. But with you? Heh...it takes on a few different levels."

Doug browed. "So she's normally nice to everyone...well.."

Lydia took an apple and bit into it, chewed it and then swallowed. "I've been around her long enough to know she acts mature with her superiors and those of great importance. She respects those who have earned it, in her eyes. Now...what I'm getting from her with the way she works with you two, My personal belief is that her harsh words are a way of dealing with morons..."

Wheatley's shutters disppeared, his optic widened. "I. AM. NOT. A. MORON!" He yelled.

Doug felt at unease by Wheatley's shouting, almost slipping off the chair. "C-Calm down..."

Lydia was bemused by Wheatley's anger. "By morons I mean bandits...people who think that they could take her on...feeling they are superior to her. Which, judging the times where we find some adventure together, are justified. I mean, who else has the power and the guts to slay Dragons like she does? She likes to toy with people, making them think she is weak, then force them to rethink before she puts them down like the dogs they are."

Doug thumbed his beard. She wasn't wrong about that. He memorized her swinging her sword about in a graceful, yet brutal, fashion.

Lydia continued. "But you are not a bandit, but a weakling in her eyes. You are on her side are you not?" She said with a blunt tone.

Doug nodded. "Of course. She saved my life...twice. I fear her as much as I am in awe of her."

Lydia grinned. "Exactly. That's the kind of thing she wants to instill in people. However, it needs to be said. It can be split both ways."

Wheatley lifted his optic. "What? Splitting fear and admiration? Wouldn't they already be split? Actually, how can they even be in the same category? I wouldn't. I outright fear the woman...just as much as I fear...well, you know..."

Doug knew he was talking about. "Wheatley, she means that Fear and Admiration are two different things as you say. But what I don't understand what you're implying by splitting the two..."

Lydia got up and took another bite of her apple. "The time will come when you will understand...and by then you would have already benefited from it."

* * *

Doug sighed. He took himself and Wheatley out in the open, seeking the metropolis that was Whiterun. Guards walked passed, doing their rounds. It was awkward carrying the core around, that had earned the puzzled eyes of the people around them. They'd walked up to the main shopping area, where there were merchant stalls that sold produce and different types, that included an armor stand and jewellery stand. A flight of steps to his left and he could see a large, pink leaved tree that caught his eye. He walked up and looked it, it's branches had over-arched and brimmed with perfect life. At the base of the trunk were nice benches and the like. Another, building, the greatest, intimidating building had to be Dragonsreach that the Dragonborn had spoken of. It looked nice enough, a castle for their king...or Jarl as they put it. He figured, with it's imposing size it was just enough to stave off many threats that lurk beyond the walls. From one of the books he'd read, it'd even caught a Dragon, hence its famous name. It astonished him and made Wheatley skeptical, how could a immovable object claim to fame on imprisoning a fire-breathing menace?

Then again, with the other things he'd experienced it wouldn't be so surprising.

He'd visited the Temple of Kyaraneth and spoke with a Priestess known by the name of Danica Pure-Spring, a healer like him. She offered words of advice that Doug was grateful for, while Wheatley was watching the other healer in action, tending to the wounds of an injured farmer who'd been in contact with a wolf. The Core grew uncomfortable with this and had asked Doug to leave, but unsure why he wasn't boding well in the area.

He'd remembered that there was a shop that Lydia had briefly mentioned before that sold potions and ingredients, naturally interested in the field of Alchemy, that Wheatley brushed off as impossible nonsense. He'd went over to the shop, called Arcadia's Cauldron and made a few purchases, seeking the most unusual looking things to mix. From memory, Lydia said there was a book on Alchemy at Breezehome so he could look up recipes there.

He headed back to Breezehome, and navigated his way to the back of the house, seeing a doorway into the small room that had a round, brown table that had what looked like an ancient chemistry set. Oh this reminded him so much of high school right now. He perched Wheatley nearby, so he could have a look at what Doug was doing. He put the bag of ingredients on the table and picked out a few and spread them across the table. He rubbed his hands together in a slight bite of excitement.

"Normally I'd refrain from doing this." Said Doug. "Because...logically, in the real world this wouldn't happen. As you have mentioned, it's impossible."

Wheatley looked at him closely. "Of course it is...but it's not stopping you from trying mate..."

Doug looked behind him, seeing a shelf of books. He walked over to kneel down and check their spines, seeing anything relevant to what he was about to attempt. One caught his eye, called the 'Herbalist's Guide to Skyrim'. Seemed interesting enough. Pulling it out, he had quick flip through it. One particular potion appealed to him.

"Invisibility." Doug muttered. Oh how it could have been useful in the past. But...this...particular potion was doable. He had the right amount of ingredients to use for it, if spending all of the Dragonborns money was accounted for.

"Invisibility? That's great for sneakin' around and playin' pranks on people..." Said Wheatley, who was getting giddy about it.

"We never had that at Aperture. Sure, we had a device that practically broke the laws of Space but we pushed through that problem quite quickly...but...invisibilty...man...Aperture had that, they would have made millions!"

Doug chuckled. What Wheatley said was true though. But if it had gotten into the wrong hands it would be disastrous.

"Go on...do it...it'd be fun!" Wheatley assured.

High school was the time for these kinds of experiments. Mucking around with the chemistry sets and making cool volcano displays. Even during his time at Aperture, there were a few labs dealing with the sorts that made all the fancy gels that either made you slide, bounce and those mixed with the moon rocks for portal making.

"If I could my wrap my head around the fact that people actually make these things. I suppose it's time to put it the test..." Said Doug.

Wheatley expressed happiness. "DO IT! Yes! I think you should...use those vials and things and glasses...hurry! I want to see it!"

Wheatley was being a really excited kid at this point. It was every kids dream after all, after the dream of flying unaided. Doug checked the book for what he needed. There was a combination of ingredients to choose from. His eyes widened at one.

"We need...Vampire Dust..." He said, hesitantly and shivering.

Wheatley tilted his optic. "Vampire Dust? You mean, they actually have living breathing vampires? Minus the living of course...being the undead n' all...nasty bloodsuckers at that."

Doug had a fear of Vampires ever since he was a child. The fact that they existed here in Skyrim struck up his paranoia near ten thousand fold. His hands starting shaking as he took the bag of Vampire Dust out. Black specks that smelled like death. He gulped and put the book down. Wheatley used his handles to flip through the pages.

"Woah hang on there mate, it's suggesting here that...to be a good Alchemist, you must test your ingredients first..." Wheatley read.

Doug rose an eyebrow. "What? How on Earth are we going to test them?"

Wheatley squinted his shutters. "Okay...says here...'In order to test them...you must eat them'...ah simple enough...'So you can get their effects.'"

Doug face-palmed. Great.

Wheatley looked up at him. "So..shove a bit in your mouth and chew mate...says here. So we can know their effects alright?"

Doug just stared at the black dust in the bag. His hunch was telling him something...but it was conflicted.

"Douggy? Oh...I completely forgot...your fear of Vampires? Is it...the dust won't turn you into a Vampire...will it?"

Doug shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know! Does the book say anything about it?"

Wheatley flicked through it again. "Uh...no...nothing...not really...not a single mention other than some simple ingredient descriptions and potion listings...in which...Vampire Dust is a part of."

Doug grumbled. "Look, can't we just use another ingredient? I'd rather not eat undead...I'm not a cannibal."

Wheatley nodded. "Yeah...I can't imagine eating another person...then again, I can't imagine eating anything all...you know, since I don't have a mouth."

Doug grumbled again as he leaned against the wall and slid down it. He rubbed his head. Normally, he was a tolerant man, kind enough to survive the world. But at some point knew he was the only one left at Aperture left with common sense. And knew, somehow, that being exposed to the craziness would in fact rob you of such a sense. Everyone had gone calmly mad. It didn't help that their boss would implement the casual mantra and answer to every why question in existence.

'For Science.'

To learn, to grow inside it's walls was like growing a bonzai plant and giving it steroids to make it shoot up faster than normal, then shoving some tubes on it to make it bend out in all crazy directions and then, for no reason at all, attach cats with lasers to it to hunt birds. That's what it felt like to him.

Alchemy felt non too different. You had to be daring, willing and brave enough to know what you were testing. But that's what most of what Doug knew, other than his tendency to doodle all over his paperwork, then get scolded by his superiors for all the pointless scribble. It was an escape out of the hellhole that Aperture had become. In the end...he couldn't even breath properly.

When the incident with GlaDOS occurred, he snapped. All of his hunches were correct and absolutely nobody believed him beforehand. Taunting 'I told you so' wasn't in his nature to explain, however it forever rung in his mind, even when his illness told him otherwise. Especially the cube.

"Okay...I think we've got...uh...Nirnroot...um...what the bloody hell is that? Nirn...root...a type of plant...that glows? Now I've seen everything...Aperture has nothing on the amount of crazy things that grow naturally! It's amazing! Although your mate Henry cooked up somethin' similar in the past. Threatened to grow all over the place...that was until they punted the Mantis Men on them. Little fella's loved the stuff!"

Doug's thoughts drifted towards the Dragonborn, wondering what she was doing. She was so organized, as smart as she was tough. For all her accomplishments that she'd earned throughout her life that she had no time for morons such as them. It was okay though. They still hadn't properly absorbed what logic this land had offered them. Dragons and magic...it was all a fairy tale to him that he could swear he was dreaming. But the cold was real, felt real...the pain that skimmed though his nerves and into the center of his brain. But the Dragonborn's patience was astounding for her general low-ended temper. She could somehow get things done her way and even if they weren't, she would still end up on top of a pile of corpses. He was beginning to feel floaty just thinking about her. The way she forces her anger and rage against her enemies, yet for the rest is a unique way of calm...not serene, with the piercing stares she gave, but when in a hurry, she would let him know.

He wasn't aware a smile had pinned up his cheeks, his eyes closed as he remembered her slaying that awfully big dragon that almost killed him. Her taunts against it and her powers that were only secluded to a small pool of people. He wished he could be as brave as her.

Opening his eyes, he could see Wheatley was still reading the book, consistently flipping it's pages as Doug daydreamed. He stood up and headed back to the table and picked up the Vampire Dust and glared at it. If he couldn't test this, then he wasn't worthy in the Dragonborns eyes.

"I'll eat a bit of it then." Doug said, his voice dampened with broken but self-repairing confidence.

"Just to have a look see."

Wheatley's optics widened again. "Oh...okay...if that's what you want. If I catch you dying on me, I'm not going to pick up the pieces understand?"

Doug chuckled, a new smirk lingering on his face. "Yes yes, I understand."

He took those golden-toned elven gloves off and poured the dust into his right hand and shook it about, analyzing the small, charcoal dust particles that had a small shine...a sparkle to them. He contemplated their taste and wondered if they tasted like ash.

"I'm going to record this...in case we ever get back...the first scientific study of...eating vampires...haha...I wonder if you'd get their powers...maybe become immortal...then, there's always bloodsucking...always with the bloodsucking...can't hurt me cause I have no blood but otherwise..."

Doug glared at him. That was not helping him feel any better. But...her words lingered...

**"What ever you choose. Just don't get yourself killed OR get in my way, understand?"**

Don't get himself killed...or get in her way. Right. All he had to do. For her right? In order to get some respect in this community. But...he felt the need to impress her somewhat. And...she did mention about choices. A land of opportunity lay before the man who wanders Skyrim. It weighed heavily on that soft, squishy mind of his.

"Bottoms up." Doug said unenthusiastically, with a hint of sarcasm.

He shoved the dust in his mouth, the taste quite vile and making him choke. Tasted like ash and the texture felt like he was eating sand. With all his might and will he swallowed it, shutting his eyes tight as if awaiting some explosion.

It trickled down his throat, and down into the pits of his stomach. Nothing ran through his veins or went straight to his head or anything else for that matter. Maybe the effects took their time, like aspirin did for headaches. This was totally out of the ranks for Occupational Health and Safety standards, even for Aperture. A few moments later, nothing. Nothing felt...different.

He opened his eyes and looked at Wheatley, who seemed lost and dazed.

"Where'd you go mate?" The Core asked, slightly distressed.

Doug dipped his brows. "What? I'm right here! I haven't moved!" He assured.

"Where? I can't see you? Did you hide or somethin'? stop it! You know how much I hate it when people disappear on me!"

Doug was unsure what he was on about. Perhaps his optics were playing up on him. He was about to head over and check that massive crack in the glass, then realized he couldn't see his arms.

"Wah!" He screamed.

"AHHHH!" Wheatley yelled in response. "What? W-what is it?...T-tell me?"

Doug couldn't believe it. He couldn't see his hands and legs at all as he checked himself all over. His eyes widened in disbelief.

"Oh...Wheatley...I...I think it worked!"

Wheatley could hear him, and was looking in his general direction, but occasionally moved it elsewhere.

"W-what worked? The Dust? Did it make you into a big cowering vampire? Cause I'm warning you...avoid sunlight at all costs...it's dangerous for you skin! If watching all those Vampire movies taught me anything."

Doug donged the core on the head for being such a moron.

"OW! What...did you see that? Something hit me! And I can't see it!"

Doug facepalmed. "It was me! Can't you get it? I'm invisible!"

Wheatley stopped shaking...then popped a screw as Doug suddenly reappeared into his vision.

"Oh God. Don't, don't scare me like that! What is it with you humans? Do you like scaring the hell out of me or something? See how we react?" Wheatley roared in anger.

Doug rolled his eyes. "No...no...I'm trying to say that the dust turned me invisible!"

Wheatley twisted his optic. "Oh...Oh! Okay...now I get it...magical dust shuts your imagery down. You must have grown some deflecting light devices...I helped some guy with that once...never worked though...I helped him try and fix it's functions. Then they got some other guy to do it...and he did it all himself too...got it working. But, it was never put into full-blown production, with the scientists claiming it wasn't fair to watch nothing all the time...so they clicked it off you know."

Doug remembered that project well. The test subject got a bit fried and declared the test a failure. But at least they knew it made good popcorn. But he wasn't talking about that.

"Wheatley...this...this is magic. Like, real magic. No magicians pulling tricks but real magic. You saw the Dragonborn right? You haven't seen the potential she and even me that can be pulled. And the healers in that Temple we were in before? That was magic as well." Doug explained.

Wheatley tried to process this, and was obviously having a bit of trouble understanding it.

"You're just a core with simple equations that can be explained by science. Here, we have no ground. Nothing can be studied with the intent of knowing the tiniest atom or reaction that causes things to react as they do. I have come to terms with that fact...and I think it's amazing!"

Wheatley gave him strange looks. "You're not going all native on me mate?"

Doug laughed. "I don't know. With the way the world is I don't think we have much choice. And the stage that this place is in, it'd be difficult to find a way out without knowledge of the tricks of the trade. We learn that...we have a greater chance of survival than being ignorant and just running away."

Wheatley brushed it off. "Pfff...isn't that all we do though? I-I mean, I can't do much other than giving out great ideas...like uh...running...for example."

Doug crossed his arms. "Maybe it's time we stopped running. I have run long enough and have grown tired of it. Sure, I'm scared like hell and will always be tempted to turn tail...but we have to at least try."

Wheatley grumbled. "Oh yes...perfect idea...with the small chance of getting ourselves killed because you have no idea what you're doing...and I end up smacked somewhere with zombies again...I thought I left all that boringness behind you know?"

Doug leaned on the wall. "We haven't been here that long enough to decide what's best. It's a crazy world...bent on murdering us when the world turns. Then again, we're used to that."

Wheatley chuckled nervously. "Hahahahaha...yeah...yeah..." He looked at the Alchemy Station.

"So...uh...we got Invisibility covered. Although there is an actual potion for it...why would you need a potion when you have a perfectly good ingredient here that does it as well. Seems a bit silly if you ask me."

Doug looked at the bag of Vampire Dust. "Perhaps you could boost it's effects with another? Who knows...physics here won't necessarily apply with the physics back home."

Wheatley nodded. "Ahhh yes...true...so very true...now look...I had another brief look in it and had the greatest idea...those ingredients should be in that bag...I think..."

Doug lifted himself off the wall and examined the bag itself. "Okay then...what do we need?"

* * *

"I am never asking you to make suggestions ever again!" Doug scolded angrily.

The entire area was black and charred after combining Fire Salts with a lot of Dwemer Oil, and witnessing an explosion that sent Doug flying off his feet and into the back shelf, hurting his back. He looked up, as the chest that was sitting on top wobbled and ended up donging the human on the head, knocking him out. Wheatley winced at it, imagining the pain as his own, as he lay there on the floor, hopeless to do anything. Doug eventually woke up and rubbed his head. How long he was out for he wasn't sure...but it hadn't been too long.

He got up...seeing the state of the room was in a complete mess and wondered why Lydia hadn't come down already. Doug panicked and start muttering incomprehensible things again.

"Don't worry! We can clean this up in no time flat!" Wheatley assured. "Now we need a broom...go look for a broom! Where ever they are anyway..."

Doug was frantic and Wheatley knew that it wasn't good for his health...then...

**BOOM!**

The front door flung open, as Doug awkwardly stood up straight, biting his lip as the Dragonborn entered.

"MUMMA'S HOME!" She roared. She stood near the fireplace and looked around, seeing Doug and looking at him as he looked a bit worse for wear.

"Doug! Wheatley! Front left and center pronto!" She yelled. This was going to get bad. Fast.

Doug fumbled with his hands as his eyes darted off in all different directions. He zoomed off to the Alchemy Room and grabbed Wheatley, then fled off and tried to stand innocently in front of the Dragonborn as if nothing happened. But their body language suggested otherwise. Not to mention the fakeness written on their faces. She rose an eyebrow and pouted, looking at the cut on Doug's forehead as blood trickled down. Wheatley was entirely black and slightly dinted.

"I didn't do anything and you cannot prove it." The core said proudly, then sparked from his inner plates.

The Dragonborns hands flung to her hips as she continued to stare at them in a lingering silence. After sniffing the air her eyes went to the direction of the Alchemy room, then to Wheatley and Doug.

"Okay...I wondering where all the noise was coming from." She said, eerily calm as she her personality filled the room, walking with an arrogance that enveloped Doug like a madman. She picked up an apple and bit at it. Doug's hunches were telling him despite her happy looking demeanour, he could tell that any given moment, she would flip it. He braced for the worst. Her boots clicked against the floorboards as she made figure eights around them in her cocky stride, Doug entranced by the way she walked, having no real reason to do so. He snapped out of it when he realized what he was doing. She had her hands behind her back and wore her usual wolfish grin. Her half-lidded eyes indicated small amounts of rage within, if the scruffy man examined them correctly.

Doug shuddered when she stopped, staring at the bookshelf. Then turned around.

"Did...I mention giving you two permission to use the Alchemy Station?" She asked, tone cheery.

Doug swallowed hard. "Uhh...no...but..."

The Dragonborn nodded and pouted. "No no...that's all I needed to know."

Wheatley let out a sigh of relief. Doug knew something had to be around the corner, he knew that much. The Dragonborn was just about to head upstairs, before stopping to look at them.

"Oh and one more thing..." She said, as if just remembering.

"Yes love what is it?" Wheatley wondered.

The Dragonborn cleared her throat. " **DON'T GO TOUCHING MY STUFF EVER AGAIN UNDERSTAND?** "

Doug fell over again with the strength and force of her shouting, poor Wheatley falling out of his hands. Doug knew it as her face became twisted in her spiteful correlations. He sat up and dusted himself down, thankful he didn't break anything else today.

"NOW CLEAN UP...I don't want any of you in that room ever again understand."

"Yes Ma'am!" Doug and Wheatley cried in unison. With that, the Dragonborn stormed back upstairs and into her bedroom, slamming the door...

* * *

Doug swept as Wheatley was rearranging his plates, discarding any debris that may have fallen within. He'd scraped up what was left of the glass and shoved them in the bin. He sighed as he finished, heading back out into the dining room and sitting down, exhausted, grabbing a nearby rag and started cleaning Wheatley up. The core was an absolute mess and had difficulty in determining what damage had been done now and what he looked like before. Wheatley seemed to enjoy being cleaned, meaning less crap had been jammed into his circuits. Doug could help repair anything that might be broken, but he didn't have the materials and tools to do so. The cleaning of his plates held a calming effect...or it would have if Wheatley would have just kept his voice box deactivated.

It was getting dark outside as Lydia had returned from where ever she had been and lit all the candles, before retreating to her quarters. She didn't say much, other than a hello, picking a book from a shelf and went upstairs. Figures as much, since the Dragonborn was up there for quite a while. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, Doug unsure if he should answer it. Time went by until another knock was sounded, soft but it was there. He got up, out of his own accord and his own wrath of course.

He walked over and opened the door, a tanned man standing outside.

"Hi. I'm just delivering a note to the Thane. Her eyes only. Is she home?" He asked.

Doug nodded. "Yes she is. I can give it to her if you'd like."

The Courier shrugged and gave it to Doug. "Alright...if she asks, I have no idea who it was from. They just said to give it to her and make sure shes the only one who sees it. If I can trust with that."

Doug looked at the folding piece of paper with a string wrapped around it. "No it's okay. I'm a friend of the Thanes. I'll get it to her straight away."

Doug was hesitant to head upstairs, growing paranoid if she was going to scold him. He held the note in his hand for a very long time. Wheatley was wondering if he was alright.

"Ah mate...when you're done with what...with what ever is you're currently doing...do you reckon you can reach back into my back-panels and adjust a few things? I think that explosion that never happened earlier did a larger number on my circuits than we realized..."

Doug snapped from what ever trance he was in and looked at Wheatley.

"Uh...sorry what? I wasn't listening."

Wheatley groaned. "Never mind mate...just...do what you need to do...I doubt I will be going anywhere any time soon."

Doug nodded, then glanced upon the stairs. He swallowed hard, pursing his lips and fiddling with the note between his fingers. He had the need to look at the note for some reason. It wasn't the look or the feel of it...but his...hunch acting up again. Paranoia was right half the time. But this...a sixth sense could tell something about this note. It didn't explain what it was or whose hands it had been in. Lifting his head up, he slowly, regrettably walked up those steps, feeling like he was going to tumble back down them with a punch to the face if he wasn't cautious. His heart rate increased with panic. He tried placing a new mantra that he had made up for himself.

"Be strong...be brave..." He muttered to himself. How was he going to earn her respect if he was going to be a massive chicken?

Shuffling towards her big double doors, the distance between himself and the doors themselves decreased, his aching fist rising against the wood. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly, biting his lip.

**KNOCK KNOCK**

He opened one eye as he heard a bit off muffled out noises on the other side.

"Who is it?" DB asked, shouting.

Another deep breath.

"It's just Doug...uh...I have a note for you from a Courier...he said he doesn't know where it came from, but it's for your eyes only."

An uncomfortable stillness followed. Doug licked in his dry lips, his forehead beginning to sweat. This was nerve racking...even more, that he blamed on his own thoughts before, that channeled along with his determination to not let her to get to him. It was harder than he thought.

He gasped as the door suddenly opened in a snap, with the Dragonborn standing there, with an agitated front on that tough face of hers, those drilling eyes. Doug gave the Dragonborn the note, with the slight quiver down his skin as she snatched it from his hand. She looked at him, before unwrapping the note and opening it. She looked at, brows drawing as she studied it closely. He could have sworn that he saw her face become rather pale. Paler than usual at least.

"Everything okay?" He asked, anxious.

She put the note away and pulled her hair away from her face.

"Fine...fine and dandy." She said, taking a big breath beforehand.

Doug nodded. "Great." He said. She was lying.

He watched her hands fly to the hips as she bit her lip and looked away to the side, becoming deep in thought like he did. It was those times he wondered what she was thinking. His heart wrenched, knowing his hunch was playing up again, but for the first time it was worrying about her and not himself. A intrusive ploy built up to see what the note had said. She might not have showed it, but he could sense a tension from within. He almost jumped when she gazed at him.

"Doug." She said, immediately grabbing his attention. She sighed. "I'm heading back to Jorrvaskr in a moment. I don't know how long I will be this time, but I don't think I'll be coming home tonight."

Doug blinked, but nodded to ensure her that he understood. She was a busy woman after all. Harbinger...Thane...Dragonborn.

"Yes...I get that. Is there anything you would like me to do while you're gone?" He asked, fumbling with his hands.

She smirked. "Other than NOT going into the Alchemy Room again, feel free to sleep in my bed when you're tired. As I mentioned this is going to be overnighter. All I ask is that while you're free to eat what ever...just...don't touch my stuff? Okay?"

Doug smiled. "I can do that."

Her smirk disappeared as quickly as it came as she hid the note inside her bed-chest and brushed past him and headed downstairs, leaving Doug a bit bewildered at her sudden act of generosity. There was something on that note he knew had changed her quick thinking, but his judgement prevented him from taking a quick glance to see what he caused her minor distress. He'd left her bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs, watching DB talk to Lydia, before finally leaving. Thumbing the wall next to him, Doug was becoming compelled to investigate, but that vanished as his stomach began to grumble. Good timing.

Going back to the lounge, Wheatley heard him walking about, his optic trained on the scruffy man once more.

"So we got the place to ourselves? That's great...Havin' a bit of a sleep over? Ahh I wish we had marshmallows...not that I could eat them...I enjoy watching them burn and become all sticky when lit alight. It's a fascinating sight watching the flames turn from that reddish, orangish colour into a nice blue. I must say it's absolutely beautiful! Only I saw them in old movies...they seemed to do that. Reminds me of the times you and me used to watch them together on a Friday night...and explain the outside world to me...Did-did you miss those days? I did...I couldn't understand why Aperture steal the time machine idea? A lot of movies pitched fantastic ideas...especially about the time traveling car...I wouldn't use a car meself though...ahh...now I want to watch it again!"

Doug chuckled as he sat down, looking at the fire itself. He rested his hand on his stomach and wondered if he could make himself dinner. At least he knows how to cook AND he wasn't dealing with exploding ingredients. And he only had to make a meal for himself...thank God. He checked the ingredients and meats that the Dragonborn had. There was what appeared to be their version of type of freezer in the corner. Walking over, he tapped his beard as he opened it up, which bits of meat lay frozen. Up the corner of the of the box like contraption was a tiny hatch, that he checked out, that zapped his finger as soon as he touched it. He sucked on his poor index finger, knowing now he shouldn't have touched it in the first place without his gauntlets on. He checked out the rest, seeing a small piece of meat that looked enough for him and pulled it out.

"Do you know what you're doin' there? I honestly think you should just eat that stuff up there...grassy...healthy...no sugar content...not that I know of anyway." Wheatley suggested, pointing towards the condiments on the rails.

Doug shook his head. Wheatley might have the intention of creating healthy eating habits, but still, his function was to make the worst ideas imaginable. Even Doug kept forgetting that at times...

* * *

The Dragonborn was abnormally quiet as she sat in the Underforge with Aela, Vilkas and Farkas, as they began discussing their current dilemma...the uprisal of the Silver-Hand. It was almost like a brooding type of vibe she was letting off, watching her fellow members rabble in their conversation. Her heart was heavy, for reasons she refused to say why. The word and the concept of being conflicted was in tandem with what ever worries she possessed before. The matter at hand would help her prevent thinking like that any further.

"There have been kidnappings, according to word of mouth, mainly in un-walled towns. Guards aren't able to do anything about it. But...if my sources are correct, there has been an increase of the Silver-Hands' presence in Falkreath, seeing men with pure silver blades, strutting their stuff and asking questions about werewolves." Aela explained.

Vilkas, wearing his wolf-decal armor, browed. "Hang on...why would they head there? They know we're here. They're looking in the wrong place."

Aela shrugged. "I don't understand it either. But we have to be wary of possible Covens that exist in Skyrim."

Vilkas grumbled. "That is stupid. If there was another here we would have found them by now."

The Dragonborn walked forward.

"I can confirm they have made their home at Mistwatch. The howling I heard there recently was...less than pleasant."

She said, frowning. Farkas stood next to her, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"The Harbinger was wise enough not to intefere with that sort of business."

The Dragonborn struggled not to blush and give a smile as Farkas supported her. She needed to keep a straight face through this. Damn you sexy Farkas!  
Vilkas nodded in agreement. "Yes...what Farkas says is true. We must not be headstrong when dealing with the Silver-Hand. We all know what happens when we get too involved."

All of them didn't object, losing a few important lives in the process, in the name of revenge and greater vengeance against their mortal enemies. They needed proof and a legitimate reason.

"Let's just figure out what we can do for the moment." Said the Dragonborn, trying to settle this like adults.

"Aela, do you have any other leads we can work from?"

Aela nodded. "Yes. Other than Falkreath, I have gotten reports of bandits at the ruins of Helgen, doing their usual, random thing. However! People have spotted them...acting far more suspicious as usual. Rumor has it they've gotten a hold an unusual object. Makes...noises, disturbing the local wildlife but it also has attracted werewolves in the area. Now...it's something only the Werewolves can hear as well as the creatures in the area."

The Dragonborn folded her arms. "Okay then. Since they're just bandits...that gives us free reign to their area no?"

Aela shook her head. "No...you'd have to talk to the Jarl of Falkreath first. Ever since the dragon attack on Helgen, he's declared the place off limits."

The Dragonborn smirked. "Ahh don't worry. I think I got that covered. I'll have a word to the Jarl and deal with it myself."

Honestly, she didn't want to talk to that Jarl. Aela had protested that she take a Shield-Sibling with her, but the Dragonborn could handle it herself. Of course, being who she was, the tough as nails Nord wasn't going to take permission..not while she could take her werewolf strength and deal with it the old fashioned way. Falkreath Hold's Jarl, Siggerd, was a bit of an asshole and wouldn't have able to let her enter Helgen anyway. Nothing was going to stop her from going there and getting further leads. Were the others going to find out? Heck no. This was something could be done within the time it takes to get from Whiterun to Helgen and back. Besides, no one else was there when Helgen was attacked...she would be heading back to the scene of the crime...

* * *

**MEANWHILE.**

In the caverns the dark, gold tinted and the hint of emerald coloured of a far way Dwemer ruin, the Space Core was being dragged through the steam ridden walkways. His optic was rushing from point to point of each thing he had seen. He was far too scatter brained to be scared and rambled on as per his usual standard. No prizes for guessing what. that was.

The burning green flames of broken lights lit only small amounts of the walkways, with feet of his kidnappers clanking against the railings. This area had a familiar feel to it, the grinding of engines echoed through out and the shinning of golden skinny robots glared at him, sharpening their projected blades and hissing steam at him.

It was a long drag to wherever they were going. It looked so much like factory that he had previously been affiliated with, albeit more prettier and less white. Space examined them within those few nanoseconds of attention that he could give. Then he heard a familiar voice. It was deep, feminine with a hint of a mechanical bite.

"Hello. We meet again." She said, voice husky.  
"Didn't expect to see worthless junk like you rolling around in this, odd sort of peculiar place. Bring him to my Chamber. We have much to discuss."

Space wasn't aware of the moving objects that were slung on the walls. They were of an odd shape, egg like in nature and were white with yellow stains, with a blunt end that had a red, glowing orb on it, that consistently watched the black robed individuals dragging Space into the depths of the unknown Dwemer Ruin.


	7. Bandits and Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug turns out to be a good cook.

 

This stew he was cooking up was looking great, not to mention, smelling good. Doug watched the smoke rise from the pot and whisked it into his nose as he stirred it with the wooden spoon. Delightful. He hadn't cooked like this for a while. A good, warm self-made meal that wasn't from a can or a bottle, or charred. A combination of herbs and spices from the condiments rack on the roof made it extra nice and added a bit of flavour, as he sipped a sample from the spoon. Just right. Almost right.

He kept stirring it, contentment lifting his face for the first time in a while. Something about focusing on the task made him feel better, instead of letting his mind wander. The psychological impact was positive, as his therapist suggested. Though they hardly accounted for his worsened condition, it was no doubt that it was having a profound effect. A little bit more elf ear, a plant not an actual ear, to his relief, and water was nearly pouring out of his mouth from the desperation to get to good eating.

Wheatley stared and made his comments, saying the liquid looked like that deathly, looking liquid that they used on test subjects at Aperture. Doug tried to figure out what was in that that disgusting stuff once and it wasn't chocolatey sweet. Still, he continued on to stir for a few more minutes before making the final evaluation and declaring his dinner as cooked. He poured some into a bowl and dug into it, unaware that the liquid started running down his chin and into his beard. Wheatley cringed, having to point out such grossness.

After dinner, Doug took out his book and started drawing again. More of a less to concentrate on, to keep his mind active until he grew tired. There wasn't a proper clock in the room, as people usually judged the time by looking at the sky. He started drawing clocks and watches into his book, strapping on the old classic leather ones onto wrists. Doug soon detailed sand timers, putting persistent and near-endless spirals as outer decorations. Sometimes his mind drifted off unknowingly into topics that may of dipped in where ever and that's what he'd draw. An issue would be presented and all of a sudden there would be a pencil in his hand and paper slapped in front of him. That's what it felt like half the time, when he was an employee and when he took his lunch breaks.

Lydia had come down since then, with Doug suddenly for no reason hid the book and the pencil and nonchalantly sat in front of the fire, talking to Wheatley, who'd been reading some random book. Lydia helped herself with something to eat, without saying a word and then heading back up stairs. Normally, he didn't like people watching him while he drew. Wheatley was too focused on a book to even bother responding to Doug, and often mumbled to himself. He'd been studying a book about smithing for some reason and became enchanted with some of the pretty pictures of armor that were displayed.

It was strange seeing Wheatley all quiet, where he was quite the noisy individual. Doug's concerns rose.

"Wheatley?" Said Doug, trying to get a view of the page he was reading.

Wheatley didn't respond, his optic trailing across the pages.

"Wheatley?" Doug said again, a little louder.

Yet again, the Core said nothing, flipping a page with his handle.

Doug rolled his eyes and confiscated the book, earning the ire from the ball.

"Oi I was reading that! Give-give it back!" Wheatley yelled.

Doug checked the book out. His nose twitched as he looked at the page, which displayed a brown-clothed humanoid, with writing around it, a description of sorts. Doug cleared his throat when he began to read.

"Thieves Guild Armor. These are used as the primary gear that Members of the Thieves Guild wear. Each article of cloth has its own enchantment, where they bolster the abilities of the Member who wears them. It is classified as a Light Type and is sown mainly of a unique type of leather that is rare in Skyrim and most of Tamriel. If you see anyone wearing this gear, complete or not, it is advised you do not approach them and make sure you keep check of your most valuable possessions. Alert the nearest guard."

Wheatley blinked. "You, you know...I was checking back on past recordings...I saw that person wearing the same exact thing! I-I thought it might be important...in case we ever cross them again...you know? Not that we want to or anything. Thieves should be punished...for their thievery..."

He was surprised Wheatley was even looking into this. Doug himself wanted to believe this was going to be a once-only event. But gathering by this book he had to forever be aware of these people. A group of thieves was far worse than a single one. But he had his hunch to support him at least. The book taught him more than he could of known, of whom to trust and who to be aware of. He didn't complain.

"We didn't get a good look at their face. So I doubt we would even catch them if we wanted to." Doug explained. "Besides, I got my clothes back. The Dragonborn got them for me so she might have already gotten to them."

Wheatley nodded. "Oh yeah...forgot about that. Yup. Sounds like the DB alright, never doubted her for a single moment."

Doug smiled. He then stretched his arms and yawned. He didn't realize how late it was. Where was that darn clock when you needed one? The very thought of them made him dig deep from the depths of his childhood, he recalled dissembling his fathers wristwatch to get a better understanding how they work, timing with itty bitty gears that grind each other and work in perfect function. Science was in his blood after all. And recalled many a teacher noted that he was very good with his hands.

He got up from his chair, exhausted from today's little ventures. There wasn't much that he did, other than visit the sites of the city, but he hadn't quite adjusted to the tenure in which the nords seemed to have, their energy more everlasting than any normal person he'd ever seen. Compared to them, he was frail and pathetic and only had magic to protect him. Some of the guards might have mentioned that Skyrim needed more healers, most he felt, tended to look down on those types who'd rather cleave their weapons in glorious battle.

"Where're you off to?" Wheatley asked. "You're not leaving me here are ya?"

Doug shook his head. "No...no. I'm just gonna go to bed. DB said I could sleep in her bed tonight."

Wheatley's shutters lifted. "Oh I see...I completely forgot about that. Want me to keep you company? Or better yet, I can go up there and you can keep me company. D-despite the fact that you will be asleep...I think."

Doug pouted briefly. "There isn't any harm in that." He said, hoping that he wouldn't chat with him all night.

They'd gotten to the doors of the master bedroom and Doug had pressed them open in a glance. It was small and humble, Doug surprised that the Dragonborn didn't work for something bigger. Then he remembered she was always out most of the time and could have cared less about the size of somewhere she could sleep. The bed with the red sheets looked neat and tidy. DB was messy so it had to have been Lydia who made it. Doug placed Wheatley on one side of the bed, against the pillow. He was a core, but he knew how to treat cores like a fellow human; An empathy lacked in many of his fellow scientists. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet as went to sit down on the side of the bed.

"From a glance, DB likes having rain on her face in the morning as an alternate way to wake up in the morning?" Wheatley assumed.

Doug looked up to see what he was talking about. The roof looked a bit worse for wear, but he could see that stars in the minor rectangular holes. If DB had let him, he could fix that up. Anything to get his hands moving and on to something practical. He swiveled his legs around and laid them out on the bed, his bones aching and making snappy noises as he lowered his head onto the soft, supple and extremely comfortable pillow. He breathed in her scent, that made his brows crease with confusion. It was her scent from memory...that wet dog smell. It was faint, but it was there.

With his food already settled in his stomach by now, Doug was strewn across the bed, having taken his boots and his gloves off and put them by the drawers next to him, as he took a quick glance at the candle before blowing it out. The room darkened a little, with only Wheatley's optic staring up at the stars above.

"I could get used to this." He commented. "It's...a breather of sorts."

Doug smiled. It certainly was a break from looking at white and rust coloured walls all the time and not having the ever-watchful AI on his tail. The feeling of the earth beneath his feet after months of nothing but artificial terrain was relaxing, a part of nature that was so desired. Aperture was all most artificial, with a lot of scientists deathly pale from the distinct lake of sunlight that now brushed nicely against his skin in that brilliant daylight. It was cold, yes, but it was better than nothing. Few more thoughts pondered in on getting a job or even a business, with the use of his crafty, crafty hands. Although, more complex issues were mingly in numbers.

Doug couldn't for the life of him properly remember the Portal Incident that got him here. He knew, it had to do with a Portal Gun at least. And that's about it. His memory was a large, black blur that if he focused too hard he'd get a tumor. He missed his beloved Companion Cube. With Wheatley there though, the likelihood of people calling him crazy was null. Despite the fact he'd been carrying around a talking ball. Most of the people of Whiterun didn't seem to mind. They'd seen worse and stranger things out in the open lands. But they accepted him with open arms and open minds. Mentioning being associated with the Dragonborn helped a bit too.

Deeper down the track he wondered if he could still help her when she needed a follower, a helping hand. He owed her that much. Now he needed to earn his keep and not just lie around all day drawing pretty pictures and listen to Wheatley's rabble. He looked at his hands again. The hands that had far more potential then they would have ever in the past. And most of all, it was appreciated by people. To hear compliments from strangers was the most heart felt experience of it all. Everyone in Whiterun were so damn noble.

"Well another day is done and another is upon us. I wonder what other exciting adventures would be in store for us. Frankly, I wouldn't put death into the picture itself, so we should try avoid that for starters..." Said Wheatley.

His eyelids fell heavy. There was a small chill in the silence, forcing Doug to dip under the sheets, inhaling more of her scent. Tomorrow, he would need to make a list of tasks and errands to run. One of them, buy the Dragonborn some deodorant, or the next best thing if they hadn't invented spray yet, some perfume.

"Night Wheatley." He said, yawning and burying his head into the pillow.

"Night Doug. May your dreams be less of a nonsense than they usually are." He joked, before closing his shutters.

* * *

The Dragonborn arrived at Helgen under the moonlight sky. The ashes of that terrible but fateful day still lingered. She'd parked Kodlak some ways away as she made her silent approach. It may have been in ruins, but the walls and the gates were the least damaged and posed the perfect hideout. No one visited, no one cared. But anything that has high walls and a roof was home to bandits. Lowering into a crouch, she walked carefully towards the main gate, trying not to be seen. She'd readied her dagger and conjured Muffle, to lessen the sounds of her footsteps. Eyes darted everywhere, honing in on moving objects.

There were two bandits on guard by the gates. With her call, she wasn't going to take them both on. Instead, she slipped behind one and grabbed hold of his mouth, then with a single motion, stabbed him in the back and prevented him from screaming. The other bandit was sitting down on a chair, reading a book. Just like Doug was. But her superior sense of smell could tell this was nothing more than a wretched rabid dog, just waiting to be put down. Another skulk and lurk then she was right behind him. She took the usual preventative measures, before slicing his neck. She rummaged through their clothes, finding a key. Key in tow, she opened the large gates and proceeded to enter.

In her sneaking position, the Dragonborn eyed out for more hostiles. They were a group of them huddle about a campfire, laughing and drinking mead. She eyed them off with a quick growl. There was a temptation to make a quick meal out of them, but the Dragonborn was smart enough to not let her make a Werewolf marking. After another casting of muffle, she pulled out her bow and arrow. Upon closer inspection, there were at least four bandits huddled in there. An arrow or two for each. First, she took a distance, a fair few meters away, avoiding suspicious looks as she hid behind a fallen wall. She rested the bow on the partially flat surface of the broken wall and placed an arrow within and held it back as she aimed for her prey.

A single twang was all that was needed to be heard as she hit one of the bandits on the back of his head. The Dragonborn held her head down as she heard cries and scuffles of the others.

"Who's there?"

"Who did this?"

"I'm gonna find who ever did this!"

Her hearing became fixated on their clapping feet, becoming wary on sound levels, detecting that in case she knew they were coming closer to her. One hand was near her dagger as her nose twitched. After a moment, they were spread out. Just what the Dragonborn wanted.

The first one wasn't too hard to find. He'd stayed back at the campfire and held his sword close. She almost snickered as his rickety knees wobbled. What a coward. The Dragonborn licked her lips and made quick work of him as she fired an arrow into his neck and causing him to scream. She leered before making a quick bolt to her left and inside one of the burned down buildings, taking shelter from the campfire and bright moonlight. She looked above a fallen log, leering at one of the scattered bandits who was going around in circles and waving his axe about. A dangerous opponent, but also foolish. A simple arrow to the forehead was all that was needed, taking him out in an instant, with the satisfying thud at the end of it. One left...

She snuck out of the burnt house and tilted her head left and right for this last piece of filth. She could hear him crying out for her blood. If he hadn't of been so stupid and inferior of just being a bandit, then he may of survived. But they were alone...together. A final strike. Maybe give the man a noble battle. A one on one battle. It was going to be easy, but damn, it was going to be just as fun.

The Dragonborn made herself known to the bandit, long fair haired nord by the looks of it, with his beard and double handed sword pointing towards her. She could see the fear in his eyes within the bravado he thought he was pulling off. Not tonight. The Dragonborn withdrew both her dagger and her bow and arrow and pulled out her own blade and swung it around, walking casually with her nifty quirky tricks, a certain smugness written all over her face. She also needed him to tell her where the loot was.

"Hey there." She said calmly. "I was just wondering, if you had anything that I might like in this ol' camp of yours."

The bandit sneered at her. "You bitch. You come into my camp and you murder my men. You will get nothing from me."

The Dragonborn laughed. "Oh? Well, from my standing point, I lean on the side of...justice was it? I was going to grant you a reprieve but with that language I'm going to have to give you a one way ticket to Oblivion."

The Bandit grunted. "I will avenge my brothers! YAAAAAAAAAH!"

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes as she easily dodged the slicing idiot and tripped him over. Spinning around, she flipped his body over and dug her foot into his chest, knocking his sword away with fire ball spell and pointed to the tip of her sword to his throat and wore a grin that angered him far more than the sword. Something about her smile that pissed him off.

"So...that stuff. Where is it? And it would be helpful if you told me where it's been coming from. The Companions are well aware of what you idiots have being trying to pull under our noses."

The Bandit spat in her face. The Dragonborn's eyes were closed in strain and reaction, as she calmly wiped the saliva off her face.

"Over my dead body!" He yelled.

The Dragonborn pouted. "A pity. Really. It would have been good sporting of you if you did. Now I have to cut you by your entrails. No wait, that sounds a bit cliché. I think a good mixture of fire and ice may cut it, although, I am not an 'ice' person normally. Get it?"

He groaned. "Get it over with. Shove your sword into my gullet. Sovngarde awaits."

A smirk described her intentions quite well. She withdrew her sword but kept her foot on his chest. In one hand she held flames, the other, ice.

"Which one first...singed skin or frostbite?" She asked, threatening him.

"Neither!" He cried. "Kill me now."

She laughed briefly, lifting up her head. "Hahah...I think...Ice..."

She fired the magic on to his hands, freezing them to the ground and restraining his wrists, creating magic based hand cuffs, then ankle cuffs, making him unable to flee. He winced and shook, trying to free himself but with no avail. She balanced the flames in her hand, her wolfish grin more than obvious. Of course she was going to kill him...she wanted information.

"I'm going to say this again...where are you getting that stuff from? Mind you, I do know you're working with the Silver-Hand. I just need a simple yes or no answer then I have my proof. So nod for yes and shake for no."

He refused to make his stance on the subject, staring at her with extreme contempt. The Dragonborn sighed. "Perhaps I could freeze your manhood next." She wondered, aiming her light blue glowing and wispery hand towards his nether regions. He rigged his head up, giving off signs that he didn't want that to happen.

"F-fine!" He said with more struggle. "Yes...we've been in contact with them. Th-They offered us Gold and to clear our b-bounties with Falkreath Hold if we just followed their strict instructions..."

"Splendid." She responded with happiness. "So you have their gear waiting for them. Where is it?"

The bandit grunted, with lowering her flame hand near his cheek, singeing a bit of his hair. "Puts a whole new meaning to Sideburns doesn't it?"

"Okay okay! It's...it's on a table. Over there..." He said, pointing his nose over to his right.

The Dragonborn nodded and released her hold on his chest, lifting her foot off him. "See? When you follow orders, you can get your way. Sadly for you though I will-"

**THWANG!**

An arrow found itself impaled into the mans skull. Though it angered the Dragonborn more than she was surprised at it.

"Hey! That was my kill!" She roared, throwing a tantrum. She became wary she was no longer alone in the ruins of this old town. She crouched, taking out her sword once again, swinging it in fancy circles with one hand. Her eyes sharpened, leering out into the cold darkness as an unseen foe pounced about nearby. They made small noises as the Dragonborn started walking back to the building behind her. Going through what would have been the doorway, she could see a tall, sleek and brown figure snatching an object from the table.

"Aha!"

The brown figure spun around, their bright blue eyes that were tucked underneath the shadows of their leather hood were shocked as they peeked into the Dragonborns.

"I believe that is mine!" The Dragonborn announced.

The figure didn't say anything, but judging by their clothes, it was a member of the Thieves Guild.

"I heard your kind was down in it's luck. Well, first you steal my kill and now you steal my stuff? I thought the Thieves Guild didn't play that way."

The Thief lowered her head and bolted in the other direction, forcing the Dragonborn to give chase. She followed them around as they dodged poles and found themselves jumping out of Helgen all together. As she ran, the Dragonborn thought of a plan so simple as to catch the Thief. Next thing they knew, they were running through the nearby woods, whisking in the bushes. She was tempted to turn this into a hunt, but knew she couldn't. Not here. She attempted to guide the thief around back on track towards Riverwood by using an assortment of spells, curving the flames and setting fire to the forest, then freezing the flames with ice spells. However, what she didn't deter was somehow the thief ended up crossing the path and was on top of a rock of the nearby mountain. Damn she was quick. The Dragonborn kept running until she started climbing the cliff as well. It was a struggle as she didn't have Kodlak with her. She groaned underneath her own weight, fingers digging in the cliff edge then used all her upper body strength to push herself up. She had far too much gear strapped to her, while this thief had nothing but the bare essentials by the looks of it. Once she made it to a flat surface, she bolted yet again. She went past a tree when she picked up a strong scent. It was...familiar. Like back at the Hot Springs.

It was the same Thief.

She skidded to a halt and walked backwards. By now they were a few bushes and trees surrounded her, with the moon shining down on her. By the Nine, transforming was a very very considerable option right now. Her ears tuned in as did her nose. It wasn't potent but it was there. She could mimic her wolf form, for which she tried as she crouched again. She went past a bush as she crept forward very slowly, only to hear a fast ruffle of twigs and brushes. By the time she turned around the Thief had ran by her. Leaning back, she thrust to them, her feet going at an unimaginable pace.

They'd gotten to the edge of the mountain, the Thief trapped as she watched the Dragonborn approach with blade in hand. The Dragonborn bore her arrogance with a bit of cheek. If the thief was nervous and scared they sure weren't showing it.

"What do we have here? Another who would dare to cross my path?" She taunted. "I have to do this again! Just give me the stuff and no one gets hurt...tell your bosses at the Thieves Guild that you had encountered the Dragonborn. They will understand THAT clearly."

The Thief didn't respond in kind and slowly etched for their bow. The Dragonborn stood sideways and pointed her sword towards them.

"Nuh uh uhhh...I wouldn't do that if I were you. Killing me would be the greatest mistake in your life. I have allies. In many places, that would certainly take in pleasures such as ripping you limb from limb. And we do not want that do we?"

Again, the total silence barring the wind which made no say in the matter. The Thief was very still, frozen in place, but the Dragonborn could feel their eyes.

"Unless your superiors were going to use you...that they're so down in the barrel of unworthiness, that they can't afford to fish out their own from flithy jails, so they leave them to die in vain or worse, allow them to rot in imprisonment. I tend to believe all thieves are expendable to a degree. Judging by how I've worked you out, you're new to this. So...best resort would be handing me the treasure and walk away...walk FAR away."

The Thief looked behind her. The base of her feet looked...very odd. As if raised partially. It was too dark to see properly however. They were at the very edge, a single step crumbling a minor portion, sending little pebbles dropping downwards to the earth below. The Dragonborn sneered.

"Come on now. This isn't worth dying for. If you were ANY kind of Thief you would know when you are cornered and know when to give up."

The Thief was quite adamant in not handing it over. Instead, she gave the Dragonborn one blank expression before turning around and jumping off the cliff, the Dragonborns eyes widened as she shouted no and ran forward. By the time she had gotten to the edge, the Thief was nowhere to be seen. The Dragonborn roared in frustration as she walked away, brushed her hair away from her face. Idiotic Thief.

She'd climbed back down the mountain and headed back to Helgen, to check if there was anything left behind. Upon arrival, she scanned the table and found a piece of paper. She picked it up, surprised that the thief had left something behind. Lifting it up, she lit up flames to give herself some light. It looked like a rough sketch of a map and judging by the lines it was a travel route connecting Helgen to Fort Greymoor. It interested the Dragonborn greatly. Finally. Something to work from. What ever it was, their next move was there.

* * *

She arrived back at Whiterun and went back home briefly. She opened the door to see Lydia sitting down, reading a book as usual. The Dragonborn looked around for Doug and Wheatley, Lydia noticing her grim search.

"They've both gone to bed." She whispered. "Everything alright?"

Everything was great...noting the sarcastic thoughts in her brain that didn't quite spell it out for her Housecarl.

"I'm just popping by for a bit. You know the drill." She replied.

She cast muffle and headed upstairs to head to her bedroom. What an unusual and yet, insightful night that she had so far. This...Thief...became a worthy nemesis or even a rival in her eyes. It wasn't unheard of when people fall off cliffs at amazing heights but the fact that they didn't stand down made them extremely capable of causing far more trickery. That scent confirmed it was the same thief from before. Had they been following them all this time? No...the Dragonborn would have detected it. A future visit to Riften would be in order.

Opening the doors, she could see Doug sleeping on his side, half tucked in under the sheets, resting far more peacefully than he did the other night. She did mention the possibility of her not coming home. She shrugged it off, believing he needed a decent nights sleep. Winterhold was nice but far too cold for his own comfort. He would wake up less grumpy and groggy in the head in that part.

But what to do with him, that same issue coming up over and over again. He couldn't stay around in fear forever. There was a list of things he could do. Head back to Winterhold to train and study in the glorious field of Restoration, books and other harmless what-not, head up to High Hrothgar and leave him with the Greybeards or even to Solitude and shove him with the Bards College. So many options where he could be protected. But..he was so weak. No Nord should be that weak. She lifted her head and skimmed her fingers through her hair. She sat down briefly nearby and watched him sleep. It was dark, but the moonlight cradled his weary but gentle pale face. After a few moments of contemplative watching, she finally got back up and walked over to the side of his bed and tucked him in properly. She smirked obnoxiously as she saw Wheatley laying on the side and jokingly tucked him in as well. It was funny, for a talking, meteor ball thing. Perhaps it wasn't bad having the company after all. Lydia was good but she was awfully boring...only when she was being a serious Housecarl. Sure they'd been best buds for a while, but the Dragonborn felt like she wanted something more for herself. Lydia didn't drink nor did she partake in many exciting events that occurred around Skyrim, more liking her duty to her Thane.

She'd left the them in their serene peace and left Breezehome, making her final stop at the Underforge...

* * *

The next morning came with the sun's rays that poured down the cracks, that gave a buzzing warmth on Dougs face. It indeed had been the best sleep he'd had since he'd come here. He buried himself in the soft blankets, not wanting to get out of bed. No drinking and no massive adventure that made him paranoid or nervous. Certainly a blessing at least. A smile crept up on his face as he shoved his head into the pillows. It reminded him of those cherished weekends away from Aperture, relaxing and allowing him tinker with his own projects that the other scientists seemed to reject or object them for far more dangerous science than he was comfortable with. Most of his funding went to paying hospital bills and his medication, the other parts let him construct beautiful things to prove that some projects needn't be dangerous to be fun. Such as energy conserving devices such a TV powered by sunlight that eventually, as he found out, formed the bases of the Hard Light Bridges. No credit was given. He wasn't surprised. They'd done it before with other scientists.

Could he invent things in here? Construct devices to make peoples lives easier? Maybe. It was an option he had besides doing nothing but lay about. And that last adventure he'd had, finding Wheatley in that tomb, was deathly scary, but in a way, thrilling. He didn't know why. The Dragonborn probably filtered far more testosterone than he did himself, with her wild, untamed fury. He tried to gather to reasons for it, a psychological cause. Stockholm Syndrome? Already? Then he thought he was already mad enough from his illness and that he was simply mentally adapting to a sudden change in lifestyle.

What ever it was, he had to do something.

To head back home never crossed his mind. Or hardly did if his mind drifted far back enough. It was mostly him and the Companion Cube. He wondered what it was doing now, all in it's cubeness. He missed it dearly. Doug now started to think it was probably not a good idea to reveal it. He only barely became the laughing stock. But within this place, it seemed far less strange then anything else. The poor thing was most likely stuck in a dirty, disgusting, cold dungeon, letting the rats crawl over it. The Midden so far failed to calm down and Doug was becoming anxious.

"I really wish they had a clock somewhere. I can't adjust my internal clock system without a comparison. Do you think they have a clock anywhere?" Said Wheatley.

Then somehow the anxiousness floated away.

"I don't know. I'd try focusing on the angles of the sun. Although, we don't know what part of the world we're on. But judging by the temperatures and the position of the sun, we're far from the equator." Doug evaluated.

"Oh good point there, good point. Uhhh lesse. It's morning...I know that much. The sun's not above us exactly. Uhhh...hm...so we're more closer to one of the poles then. Alright. Makes...makes a lot of sense." The core babbled.

Time was important to Artificial Intelligence. They could easily allocate their duties to different time slots and schedules and kept digital diaries. They could record the length of time passed and use it for testing purposes. It was the lack of time people had for each other that must have grinded them in the end. To keep the ghost of Cave Johnson happy and his prerecordings well meant.

But now they had all the time in the world.

"Bollocks...this is going nowhere...and fast!" Wheatley complained.

Doug sat up and stretched his arms and cracked his neck. "You know humans have a body clock. It determines when we should be awake and when we should be asleep."

Wheatley examined Doug. "Wait, you're telling me you have had a clock inside you, all this time? That would have been nice to know earlier."

Doug rolled his eyes. He should have known better. "It's a human thing. You won't understand."

He could have sworn Wheatley mutter 'Bloody Humans' that made him smile slightly. Getting up off the bed, he put his boots on and picked up Wheatley and headed downstairs.

Sitting at the table, Lydia was already up, reading a book. They gave each other subtle nods and exchanged good mornings.

"What's for breakfast?" Doug asked.

Lydia looked at Doug funnily. "What you ever you feel like I suppose. I bought some bread earlier. Better eat it before it goes all hard. It's just on the plate by the fire."

Doug placed Wheatley down on the chair and picked up the unsliced bread.

"Really? You guys...don't...cut it?" Doug iterated.

Lydia continued reading. "Going to split it up and share it around?"

Doug shook his head. "No...I was going to make toast."

The housecarl's head popped up, her expression was one of confusion. "Toast? A toast to what?"

Doug sighed. "Never mind. I'm just going to make myself breakfast now. Where's your nearest knife?"

* * *

The Dragonborn had been awake all night analyzing the information she'd found at Helgen. Alongside Aela, Farkas and Vilkas, they all agreed that Fort Greymoor was their next target. According to Aela however, no member of the Silver-Hand had been seen there, meaning it was another bandit check-point for them to use, Vilkas proposing they had set up a smuggling ring of sorts. Farkas had mentioned Skooma, but the Dragonborn didn't find any satchels full at her recent scanning at Helgen. But at least their recent checkpoint had been obliterated. The Dragonborn ensured that it was better for them to die then to let them continue with their operations. She could see Vilkas was ready to scorn, but he knew better than to out-speak their Harbinger. But the Harbinger herself knew she what she had done was questionable in itself, but it was for the better of the Companions themselves, even if was breaking a local Hold law. The Dragonborn had battled internal thoughts on the subject of the Thief, that if they were worth mentioning to the other members of the Circle about.

In the end she failed to speak about them, preferring the one on one hunt with them. Subconsciously, she felt like this wouldn't have been the last time they encountered one another. It could be anywhere, anytime. If it got too annoying she would head into the Ratway and speak with a member of the Guild, seeing if one too many punches to the face would get them to say anything. Although that would be practical suicide, she wouldn't have many other options either. They'd organized the next meeting to discuss Fort Greymoor further. The Dragonborn, meanwhile, fled the scene and went out into the tundra to vent her frustrations as a beast, not returning until the morning light, where she'd returned inside the walls via the Underforge and headed back to Breezehome.

By that time, she'd opened the door to see Doug standing over the fire, with a kind of strange, crosshatched rail with what appeared to be cut pieces of bread. Doug lifted his head and gave the Dragonborn a kind smile.

"Ah good morning!" He said happily. "Care for cheese on toast?"

The Dragonborn creased her brows, puzzled by the notion of toasting cheese. "What?"

Lydia sat down on the chair, scoffing it down, then her eyes stuck on the Dragonborn, realizing she should be more formal.

"My Thane I am sorry!" She said, shooting up, whilst chewing the last remnants of her toast.

The Dragonborn's face became apathetic. "Yeah yeah what ever. You better not be blowing stuff up again like before."

Doug shook his head. "No no no! Trust me...you'll love the rush of endorphins when you try something new."

A minor twinge in her face showed her contempt for such an odd thing. Who in their right mind would eat burnt bread? It was as mad as Sheogorath.

He gave her a slice as she looked at it. The piece of chest had melted on top, a displeasure noticeable. Doug was so eager to get her to try it that she wasn't entirely sure whether he was trying to kill her via this poisonous looking contraption. Looked like a falmer creation in all honesty.

"Try it love...well, I don't have a mouth to claim it's tasty...but I have heard of it's tastiness. Delicious..." Said Wheatley.

She ignored the talking ball and looked at it again. She sighed. It could be an alchemy element to use in the future. Who knew? The Dragonborn opened her mouth and took a single bite and started to chew very slowly.

The bottom half was very crunch, and the top, gooey. Simple flavours touched her taste buds as she focused on them. It wasn't making her barf, so that was good. A few more moments of chewing and her eyes widened, her mouth forming a legitimate smile as she kept on biting through it. Before she knew it, she finished the melted cheese on toast and licked her fingers clean. It...wasn't.-

She noticed everyone was staring at her, as her brows creased in confusion, wondering what they were grinning about.

Her cheeks were red with embarrassment as the smile on her face wasn't full of sarcasm, malice or wit. Her expression changed completely as she shook her head and scowled at the three.

"Did I give you all permission to stare?" She roared.

Doug jumped back. "Uh...no...but did you like it?"

The Dragonborn headed back upstairs, failing to reply. He whinced as he heard a door slam. Lydia gave off a minor chuckle.

"Don't take that as a no." She explained. "Keep that up, you might be able to crack through to her."


	8. Fire and Perfume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug settles into his new life, discovering things, inventing things...  
> Killing things.

_Fire_

_Flames_

_Symbols of the most blown up and expanded feelings of the universe._

_Hate_

_Rage_

_Passion_

_Blood lust._

_Also associated with the colour red._

* * *

During the day Doug had offered his services to anyone who needed them. First off, he'd fixed up the roof, so in case it rained it wouldn't leak water everywhere. In a brief day dream trip he'd wonder how she coped with such a pestering annoyance. The Dragonborn begrudgingly let him do so before heading off to Jorrvaskr, in a state of her usual emotive escapades. He was lucky that today was another brisk, but nicely sunny day with a cool northerly chill. Lydia offered him some civilian clothes if he wanted to change. Nothing too fancy, a long sleeve grey top with a brown vest, green pants and leather shoes. He was happy enough to finish his job in peace, hammering away at the roof repairs.

He'd found a secluded spot afterwards after he'd finished, near what should have been a Guard post, but the Guards were busy walking around and routing the interior of Whiterun. It was a nice, small area off the base of the stone palisade walls that surrounded the city with wooden poles that supported a thatch roof. It had nice views of Throat of the World, which he struggled to see the top of because of the low clouds. He had Wheatley next to him, scanning it and making his usual babbling. Doug wrote poems from the unconscious mind, transferring thoughts to paper. He never gave them names, it was just art. Of course he wasn't the greatest artist, but drawing help ease the mental pain while the Dragonborn was away. She wasn't too far, she only mentioned beforehand not to bother her when she had important Harbinger work to take care of. Occasionally Doug would witness her walking around with another man, talking seriously for a moment before he left. She'd stifle a small laugh before storming back to Jorrvaskr. It boggled Doug's mind as to what was going on. He kept his suspicions to himself before he went back to doodling.

His thoughts became transfixed on wolves. Drawing them tearing bandits limb from limb. The smell of the Dragonborn's hair reminded him of the ferocious canines, his sentences barely making sense, such as Red Riding Hood is the big bad wolf and all that sort of nonsense. It took him a while to notice what he was doing, then closed the book suddenly, needing to get another task done. Wheatley was reading a book out in a muttering voice upon Doug's observation, his optic focused on the text and darted from side to side. Doug would never have thought Wheatley to be the reading type. Like what drawing did for Doug, reading seemed to satiate his curious interests. After all, this was another strange foreign land they never even heard of. Doug used his various fantasy novel knowledge and attempted to apply reasons to it. Probably why he got comfortable and used to the atmosphere quite quickly. Still, oddities floated here and there that didn't make sense, in the end, Doug just had to put up with it, declaring on how that's just the way the world works.

He'd met a lovely young lady by the name of Ysolda, an eager trade merchant. She was friends with the Dragonborn and noted all the chores she'd done for the woman. Had Doug known she'd done this much for her people, he would have shut up faster. Or maybe start question her a bit more. They both had a nice chat, getting to know the other better and the former scientist even discovered interesting facts about the cat people, or the Khajiit, or so he had read.

His knowledge of the world around him seemed to evolve. Of course he wouldn't know exactly everything. He'd still stand behind the Dragonborn on that one. Knowledge could be key to getting her respect. No...it would be just brawns to her liking. She liked anyone who could kick ass. And he certainly wasn't one to do so. He healed those asses mostly.

Next on the list of things to do was clean Breezehome. Lydia really didn't want him doing it, but he promised Wheatley wouldn't be involved. He fed the core with more books than you could shoot a portal gun at, probably going to make him more intelligent or sprout out bad ideas as he did. Oh well.

Several hours had passed. Doug had learned that the days of the week were different from home. Today, apparently, was Middas, which, according to his research of various similar comparisons, was a lot like Wednesday. It was alluring that, how this land was so different to his own, and yet, so similar. He could swear his mental state was deteriorating and fast with all this nonsense that babbled about. Or it was just Wheatley being his usual self.

The Dragonborn herself drifted in and out all week, barely acknowledging anyone elses presence. According to Lydia, this was normal, keeping herself as active with the Companions. Doug would cook, give some to the Dragonborn who scoffed it down like no tomorrow and failed to give even a subtle compliment, always defending herself with 'little time to waste.'.

It didn't bother Doug too much though. He got to know most of the people during this time and gathered materials from time to time to organize a project. He'd made blueprints of various things he could use. He became fast friends with the blacksmith next door, Adrianne. Wheatley would come along as well, fascinated by the the armor and weaponry that she built on her own, but commented her methods were primitive. Doug had to quickly shut the core up before he did any damage. Still, it was an opportunity to get noticed for once. If his cooking wasn't impressing her he might as well try to find something new. He'd jotted down the things that even in this society could probably need. The Soul Gem Powered fridge was an idea from the local court mage, so Doug thought of the basics. Wheatley pitched a few things like a computer but Doug thought that was far out of his range for now and wouldn't have the items to build it, like wires hadn't been properly invented yet.

Wheatley had read about the Dwemer and their robotic inventions and called out that they could retrieve some items of interest in one of their ruins. But then remembered they shouldn't since their robots were a bit...violent. Didn't surprise Doug though. Made him feel right at home with that piece of data. He had a pen and paper ready and bit his lip, tapping the pen against his knee. What would Skyrim need?

Another week passed and so far, Doug had gotten his inspiration by noting down the problems the people of Whiterun seemed to have. Dragons, for one. Doug had written down the idea of tiled or tin roofs to protect her houses for the flames. While he won't garner a patent for that one, it was a general thought that floated in his head when ever he wandered around town. He helped develop a horse plow for the farmers, who always appeared to be struggling with crops. Originally, he had trouble appealing the idea to them, until one of the smarter farmers stole it. It was life at Aperture all over again. One thing they lacked was proficient plumbing that was used mainly for decorative purposes such as fountains. Doug desired at least some clean drinking water and clean...cleaning water. They lacked bathrooms for this instance. Over the small time, Doug secretly built a bathroom at the back of the house, attaching a door and very slowly installing a piping system. He'd gotten in trouble with guards a few times, having to be saved by Lydia who convinced them that this has the Thanes permission. It got eyes wandering, curious to what Doug was doing. Wheatley did little to help, the core he was but wanted to. Doug had created Wheels for him to move around on and promised to give him a kind of robotic body, but had hadn't gotten around to making the blue prints as of yet.

It was week three and Doug was almost finished with the bathroom. He'd managed to connect the piping system to the nearby river. Lydia had to stand by him as he worked, fending off rogue Mudcrabs who seemed to like snipping at his thin legs. They had crabs for dinner that night, with Lydia going off with the taste, confusing Doug but making him glad he was making someone happy.

The next day he was finally finished. The bathroom now had a fully functional shower, heated by a a random Soul Gem, which to him was such a majestic power source. Wheatley had no idea what they were made out of, which made Doug facepalm. Although, he hadn't completely gotten used to the idea that they were made of actual souls, it was the only thing he could do. He'd gone hesitant once he learned but eventually grew to the crazy concept, another page turned in his insanity booklet. There was also a bath and toilet that he praised.

"Humans are really smelly indeed, what with their appendages that sprout stinky stuff. I-I might add that's...normal of course but still...ugh..." Wheatley complained.

Doug's eyes widened. Stinky...smell...wet...dog. That's it!

Lydia stood back as Doug bolted out the door. "Any idea what he's doing?" She said with confusion.

Wheatley squeaked in his little Coremobile, which seemed to bounce from the hydraulics as he drove, powered by his own lengthy core power source. "Hopefully with of those pine tree thingys you hang from mirrors in cars. What-what I don't get is why Pine trees? Surely there are better smelling things than that...actually, I don't recall pine trees having any kind of smell at all. I-I mean, sure, they could have a nice smell, but not everyone recalls the smell of pine do they? Roses...rose are popular yeah. So why not have a rose in your car? Much better than Pine..."

Lydia blinked. "What's a car?"

* * *

Doug had retreated off to Arcadia's Cauldron at some stage. This hadn't crossed his mind since the Dragonborn wasn't home long enough to allow Doug to inhale that moldy canine grottyness that seemed to linger around her. The trick was finding the perfect aroma that would suit her and not dim down her image. After all, Doug was insightful enough to understand that her reputation was important for her work.

He dipped around the shelves, looking for any ingredient in particular, when Arcadia caught him off guard.

"Woah didn't mean to startle you." She said. "What is it you're making this time? I heard you made quite a mess the last time you jumbled with an Alchemy set. You probably could use a hand."

Doug rubbed his head, embarrassed. "Uh...well, that wasn't my fault..."

Arcadia rose a skeptic eyebrow. "Right. So. What's the mess you're currently not going to get yourself into?"

Doug stood up straight. "Promise never to tell your local Thane this..."

It was obvious which Thane he was refering to. "Of course. I can keep secrets."

Doug nodded, getting a little anxious as a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. "You see, I want to make her a perfume."

Arcadia crossed her arms, surprised. "Perfume huh? Got plenty of those. But! If you're wanting to make one yourself, I can let you in on my own secret..."

Oh good...Alchemy advice...like she had previously mentioned. He could use a bit more to be honest, but he was so focused on constructing useful things he nearly forgot about it.

"Lydia often comes by here. Did you know she shifts through her Thanes stuff to see what she likes?" Arcadia pointed out.

Doug didn't think of Lydia as the snooping type, but rather the loyal lapdog, excusing the pun, to her Thane. But anything was at go by this point. He leaned in further.

"The Thane has a very powerful sense of smell, according to Lydia's observations. And trust me, when you have a local housecarl in your shop, you tend to catch and snag on all kinds of gossip."

Doug could imagine. Water cooler gossip was very common back at Aperture.

"One thing Lydia said to me was, that her Thane could identify who'd been in her house. She trusts Lydia so she knows what her Housecarl's scent bares and her own. But one thing that Lydia noticed was an...abstract..."

"Like Wet dog?" Doug said, accidentally slipping that out.

Arcadia looked at him weirdly before finishing her sentence. "Scent...sweet, commonly found in most parts of Skyrim."

Doug's brow creased and tilted his head in utmost curiosity.

"Lavender. It was Lavender."

Lavender?

"What's so special about Lavender?" Doug asked as he stroked his beard.

Arcadia shook her head and walked over to one of the back shelves.

"Even Lydia hardly knows...except for one small fact, is that, it's the one thing she refuses her Housecarl to purchase on her own. She'd rather go outside of these walls and find what ever's growing."

Doug pursed his lips. That was...strange. He could imagine the Dragonborn coming out in the middle of nowhere and snatching up a cloft of lavender plants. A hallucination was brought up briefly by his own conscious mind as he stared at the vision of the Dragonborn standing beside him, as she sniffed the plant. Her reaction to it...was blank as her form fizzled away into dust.

"I'd warn against purchasing Lavender for her if that's what you're thinking." Arcadia finished.

Doug snapped out of his trance. "Uh...no...but could you make a perfume out of it?"

Arcadia pouted briefly in thoughts as she nodded and flipped her hands to her waist and walked back to the counter and leaned on it. "Sure. I have one lavender recipe I will believe she will like. I have the ingredients on hand if you would wish to buy them...just...I recommend finding out where she gets her lavender from. I don't understand what's so great about them, but that would most likely impress her if you catch my drift."

They exchanged services as Doug walked out of the store. He checked his bag of ingredients when he could see the Dragonborn storming out of the inn. She caught his eye and didn't say anything. Her stare sent a chill down his spine as she stomped her boots into the earth and headed elsewhere. Her body language indicated agitation but failed to show exhaustion. What ever she was doing, she was being incredibly busy and still ignoring him.

Doug hurried back to Breezehome with the goods and displayed them to Wheatley, the core puzzled.

"What's that you got there? You know she told if we used the Alchemy Table again we would die!" He sputtered.

Doug crossed his arms. "Well not if she can detect it. I need somewhere to hide this while I go out."

Wheatley's optic widened. "Are you absolutely mad? On your own? Where the hell are you going this time? You're just as bad as her you know!"

Doug could see Lydia walking down the stares. He got a sudden bolt of intelligence and grabbed the back and walked to her.

"Could I ask for your help again?" Doug pleaded.

Lydia. "Sure. What do you need?"

* * *

In a sprout of confidentiality and secrecy, Doug explained his plan to get the Dragonborn some perfume. Lydia was not exactly opposed to the idea, but seemed to get into it quite quickly. She explained that her Thane made irregular visits elsewhere but didn't seem to get where she sometimes headed off to. Doug nodded. He was nervous, feeling as inexperienced as a child. Lydia hid the ingredients in her room while Doug to the time to find the Dragonborns special Lavender.

She also tried out the the shower for the first time and liked it, comparing it to standing underneath a waterfall. Doug grinned. Again, he was honored for someone to take notice of modern essentials.

Wheatley offered to take watch on the Dragonborns movements through out Whiterun, though he had trouble on whether she'd gone out of Town. He never noticed her going through the big gates. Doug by this time installed claw hands on Wheatley. Now he looked like a rolling crab, but the name _Coremobile_ and _Wheatleymobile_ was stuck in that unique language of his. Notable invention at least.

Another week, so to speak. Nothing. Nothing at all. And yet, the Dragonborn still drifted in and out of the house at times. Doug's hunch explained that she somehow knew that she was being watched, but Lydia had explained that while the Dragonborn was powerful in her own right, there were times she could be just stupid and unaware of what was going on around her. Doug had asked why, but Lydia didn't know herself. Another mystery that had to be solved for another time.

His bathroom invention had caught on, as the Jarl had gotten notice of the one at Breezehome. He'd commissioned the former scientist to install them in Dragonsreach and was offered all the help he could get. While Doug was over the moon that the local Jarl recognized Doug for his initiative and brought him up as an ideas man, he couldn't understand why the Dragonborn still hadn't believed and complimented him on his efforts. It was no matter how hard or practical he was trying to be, it wasn't worth it to her. She would still ignore him at some times and at times she would give him a single nod. What she was doing was...unknown...by this point. And still no strange visits or collections of her lavender.

* * *

She finally came back home one day. Not exhausted, but kicked the door open and entered with a piece of paper in her hand.

"DOUG!" She yelled. Doug was busy upstairs with Lydia, when the housecarl gave a simple expression to let him go. He fled downstairs to see the Dragonborn with a smirk on her face.

"Y-yes?" He stuttered.

She shoved the note into his hands. "Read." She said. One worded sentences. Straight to the point. He went blank for a moment, before delving into the paper. It mentioned giants at the Sleeping Tree.

"Jarl wants the giants dead as you can clearly see..." She said. Her words were slightly slurred for some reasons.

"You, are coming with me. You...need to witness and help me deal with them. Got that?"

Doug nodded and gulped. "Uh...sure...what about Wheatley?"

The Dragonborn looked at the crab looking core. "Why does he look like a mudcrab?"

Wheatley glared at her. "Hey! I am not a Mudcrab! Just so happens to be called the Wheatley mobile! With pincers!" He said, snipping his claws at her. She laughed.

"Pfff...you moron. Even a Mudcrab could intimidate me better than that!" She scolded.

"How many times do I have to tell you people! I am not a moron!"

After another forced laughing session, the Dragonborn gave little time for Doug to get changed into his Mages gear. After all this time inventing things to better the people of Whiterun, he almost forgot his magical healing abilities. He feared he made be weaker and was expecting to be thumped by the Dragonborn herself. She got on Kodlak with Doug behind her, her wet dog smell very faint as the they headed towards the Sleeping Tree Camp.

Doug had read about the giants. Tall, humanoid looking things that packed quite a wallop and were very dangerous and should be approached with caution; very much like he'd read in many stories books as a child. They tended to their Mammoths, which was one of the few things that made Doug think about the legitimacy of the place he was in. Oh how the scientists back home would be jealous that Mammoths hadn't gone extinct. It would be so enchanting to see one up close. Upon further reading, Doug discovered that the Giants were very protective of their Mammoths and were farmed for their cheese. Seemed plausible enough. If any of the scientists were here, instantly, and with than nano-instant, would demand to see the details of the nearest cloning device. Aperture scientists,would anyway, like what they did with the finding of the Dodo bird, which turned out to be a chicken with a coconut stuck in it's throat. How it managed to do that was anyones guess...which made them test coconuts on test subjects. Doug was soon turned off palm trees and beaches after that.

It was late afternoon and the crickets and cicadas made their songs known across the open tundra that was far and wide until the mountains that were cloaked underneath clouds displayed themselves in the very off distance. Doug could feel her heart beat. It was rapid, more rapid than a healthy person could deal with. He soon focused on the tense muscles that he pressed his back against and narrowed in her patterns. Her breathing was normal. The hunt was exhilarating for the Dragonborn from what he could transpire about her. But...there was one thing that he could plainly see about her with all this and the stone cold expression she was having.

Confidence.

And a lot of it.

Another poetic thought bounced in his head. Another painting.

She had him coming with her this time. She wanted to show him something.

It was the silence between them and the wind combing their hair that allowed him to ponder her actions. He didn't want to think himself to death of course, which was the reason why he had became fixated on her body. Not in a sexual way as most men would see, no, he couldn't act like another normal man, buried in their lust for very attractive women. Not that the Dragonborn wasn't attractive of course...she was just unique in her own, fierce, brutal way, whilst being a modest, genetically blessed woman with no idea of normal womanly needs. She preferred swords to lipsticks, magic to foundation and good, sturdy armor to dresses. In his land, it would be a mens job. But...

* * *

_You're not a hero, heroes die._

* * *

The cubes words pounced back to him. It was true. He was no hero. He was just part of something that was very unfortunate and was forced to get someone else to do his dirty work. The only noble yet guilt-ridden way to put the situation straight and for life to move on, to carry on the burden as Apertures second-last hope and the teller of many stories beyond then. Stories that humans cherish and robots degrade with their facts and figures. The humans stories would warp over time and the robots with their ever-lasting memory would stay the same.

Being placed in a entirely opposite path of the spectrum was to say, a punishment for their sins against man. His mind wandered down that dark-trodden road again, the pain seeping into his stomach and causing him to wrench. He imagined as they road down the tundra, portals being made here and there, and the one test subject pushing her way through the horrid courses she had been put through. Darker thoughts still, pinging and stretching his brain to loose ends, his lips began to quiver.

Kodlak had stopped before a nearby cliff edge. The Dragonborn whacked Doug out his trance, wordlessly telling him that they were here. She pointed a finger to him, then two fingers to her eyes and then one to the ground. His brows creased at what she was trying to explain. Squatting down, she walked forward at an agonizingly slow pace and turned her head to Doug and signaled him to walk next to. Nodding, he walked over and copied her every moved as they went up the small cliff. He could see a blue glow as they got higher, and a grey tree. The glow pulsed as they continued to climb. The Dragonborn pushed her head very carefully into the gaps of the brownish bushes and looked ahead. Doug was reluctant, but the Dragonborn again quietly told him to lay next to her. He swallowed, leaning on his chest and used his arms to crawl forward in the dirt.

He had to squint at first, then widened his eyes. The pale grey tree had sprouted from the small pond and was the source of the pulsing blue glow. He hadn't seen anything so naturally and magically beautiful. He looked at the Dragonborn who held a cheeky smile, as if holding back laughter. He was curious to what was so humorous until he noticed his jaw was slacking the entire time.

He slapped it closed as her face narrowed and nodded to the side. He tilted his head to see one of the Giants strolling around, carrying a mighty big wooden club on shoulder along with some odd markings and large brown bag things with a yellow mush inside. It was patrolling the mammoths that absolutely astounded him. He had, never before, seen a living breathing mammoth. And there they were, clear as day.

The Dragonborn wasn't really caring for the Mammoths, but rather their caretakers. Doug examined her thoroughly as she took out her bow and arrow. Doug gulped, crawling back a little to give her space. And in case something went horribly wrong so he could flee at a moment's notice.

His eyes traced the smile on her lips, the taste of the hunt as she licked them. Closing one eye, she made her aim at the patrolling Giant, laying her bow horizontally. Her position was strong, firm and mesmerizing. Her form was deathly still after she had pulled back the arrow on the string. A mighty huntress that struck him as art, the statue of her prime initiative. It was a image that burned itself into his memories that he could save for sketching later. He jumped a little as she let go and heard, from her bigger smile, a satisfying hit on her mark. Doug froze at the sound of a groan as the Dragonborn pulled out another arrow. Doug didn't even want to see what the Giant was doing. She fired again, another groan that sounded more like annoyance than pain. He continued watching as she pulled something out of one of her attached pouches. A small bottle of sorts and poured it's contents onto the point of the next arrow. She pulled back and...

A sharp shot then a louder groan.

Doug bit his lip, desperate to flee the scene of an angry giant. The Dragonborn slapped her hand on his, almost making Doug yelp and dragged him next to her. She pointed at the Giant who appeared to be drowsy. Two arrows stuck out of his head, blood slowly pouring out, making Doug cringe. What ever the Dragonborn had poured on her arrow, it was surely working.

She shuffled about closer to Doug, then rolled herself on top of him, a slow grunt subsiding for the sudden weight growth. He felt her slide back and rested her head next to his, a warmth growing in his cheeks. Grabbing his hands, the Dragonborn slipped the bow into his fingers. What was she doing? She knew he didn't like killing things, so why was she-?

She forced Doug to extend his left arm and lift it slightly. Her other hand whipped out an arrow and quickly adjusted it into his spare and tugged it in on the the bowstring. His own heartbeat rose as their cheeks rubbed, hers curving with grinning anticipation. Doug wasn't anticipating anything other than what his mind was trying to shuffle against. With her motions very slow and articulate, she forced Doug to pull the arrow back on the string, grasping on his hand with immense strength. A moment floated by with great pause as nerves were threatening to get the better of him. He couldn't see what she was planning or what her expression was.

Her breathing had gotten louder, but at a normal, regular pace. She squeezed his hand twice. He'd expected either extremely rough and grotty palms or impossibly soft and tender, but they felt normal. Average. But felt warm with an electric touch. Eventually he discovered that she was trying to match their breathing patterns. Doug gave a subtle nod upon the revelation, listened in and tried inhaling and exhaling in a steady rhythm with her. She gave another tug, then raised his hand and assisted him with aiming the arrow to the Giants head. The heavy breathing helped him ignore the rising heartbeat ringing in his head. He scrutinised at the Giant, which was trying to grab hold of it's balance. Doug licked the sweat off his lips. He was shaking slightly, but the Dragonborns genuine, if not blatant hold helped control that as well as the heavy breaths. She forced him to pull back the arrow a bit more as he leered and narrowed his eyelids at the larger creature. It looked like he was in perfect aim for it's head, now that it stopped moving for that split second.

" _Fire._ "

The sudden whisper shocked Doug into accidentally flinging the arrow at the Giant, hitting the final nail on it's coffin as it fell over. Doug felt the vibrations through the ground when it topped flat on the ground. The Dragonborn rolled off Doug and sat on the ground and crossed her feet. Doug simply rolled over and extended his arms and legs, heaving a big enough sigh to make the Dragonborn give a mischievous and show-offy smirk.

He was terrible nervous and mortified that she had basically force him kill something. After that incident at the College he wasn't sure he could hurt another living thing. But he couldn't help but doubt the audacity of it all. He looked at her nervously, her piercing eyes ever-watching, ever waiting for some comprehensive sentence to pour out of his mouth. He swallowed hard before sitting up at her pace.

Before he could open his mouth, she stood back up, surprising the man. She took the bow back and walked down the hill, giving another signal to him for him to follow her. What else was up?

* * *

Wheatley was muttering to himself constantly on how he was annoyed that none of them bothered to take him on their delightful little trip, leaving him alone with a chirpy, boring lady and a pile of books.

Many books were laid out with Doug's massive collection that he had been accumulating thus far. Skyrim offered a lot of fantasy nonsense that Wheatley had no time for. He'd been out of space for a while now and his own thoughts of his original friend lingered and caused him mental pains. No matter how hard he'd put it off, it kept crawling back into his front files. If he was human he would have, what he could remember, things called nightmares, like Doug. Hearing the man's story and their common connection made him feel guilty that they both manipulated her without her consent. He wasn't sure what Doug's stance was, since he was busy lollygagging with the intense woman elsewhere, but he was sure on his own that he couldn't put it off much longer...

The way he acted, the way he felt afterwards. The last five minutes existing on Earth were indeed the most agonizing, and sentences began to form around themselves using.

**Did I deserve to come back?**

All he could think about in space was to say he was sorry. The immense regret that he'd felt was extremely uncomfortable, even for a core. He didn't understand regret as a word and couldn't describe as it were if he tried. But he knew it was connected to the inward need to say sorry. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet. Since there was nothing or no one to talk to other than himself. If Doug could construct something out of nothing, just...anything, to talk to. It would be wonderful. He could vent his problems without knowing how, despite having done it many times before. He just needed that company, as he was feeling quite...alone.

He deserved that.

The common match between Space Core and Lydia is that they were never intent on listening to him, or understood how he felt. Space Core being...well, Space Core, and Lydia not having a bar at the monster downstairs, returning to her rightful post. He was a larger freak living in a world of freaks, so that had to amount to the cause. But the pain...

Books only did so much for him. He particularly enjoyed the ones with the pretty pictures, but none of them were in colour, only sketchy looking things. There was no Machiavelli that he could find, to bolster his already intelligent brain.

There was a knock on the door that made Wheatley jump. He blinked twice before putting a book down to answer it.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!"

He pulled the door open and in the light of the frame stood a shadow, overcasting him in their darkness.

"Hello there...can I help you at all?" Wheatley asked, completely ignoring the fact that this could be anyone...and normally Lydia would open the door. They were barely budging as it hovered over Wheatley in his cart.

"Seriously, anything at all? Come on...either it's a letter or you're here to visit, I-I kinda have to know. Can't let anyone waltz in here can I? Courier? You're a courier...so just give us the letter...and we can be on our way...finishing our jobs."

The strange person seemed to just stand there. Wheatley rolled his optic.

"Nope...sorry...you're not here on business of any sort and now you have to go...bye bye!" He said, closing the door and waving with his other claw.

The person pushed their hand against the door, making Wheatley struggle to close it himself.

"Look, I said bye bye...you're obviously not going to say anything bu-"

**DONG**

Wheatley's program froze for a few moments before it got back to normal. He rubbed his plates where something had been thrown at him.

"Now why'd you have to go and throw something at me? Okay, I'm sorry I tried closing the door on you, but-but you got in my way. See if you stand there and look at me like that, obviously the door isn't going to close properly. The way doors work, from my experience, is that they close completely, when nothing is in their way. Isn't that amazing?"

Nothing much changed other than the lifting on the individuals chin. Suddenly they walked forward and closed the door. He could see brown leather clothes that sing of a ping in his alert system. This made him quite angry.

"Oh now you enter without a proper invitation. I should have mentioned you can only head backwards...not forwards mate."

They leaned down and picked the object from underneath Wheatley, lowering their head towards his optic. The light from it displayed a small, female, familiar face that Wheatley ruffled through his memory back very quickly as they'd picked up an apple from the floor. It dawned on him, his optic very wide.

"It's...it's you! It's really, really you!" He exclaimed, almost too stunned for words.

"Oh god! How-how are you? I would not have expected you here!"

She rose a finger to her lips, however, Wheatley failed to get the message and continued talking. Several creaks were heard up above as she was forced to hide elsewhere, confusing the poor sphere.

"Wait? Love? Where are you going? We need to talk!" He pleaded.

It was too late. She was gone. Wheatley looked up to see Lydia on top of the steps.

"Who was at the door?" She asked.

Wheatley scanned around, unable to find who he was looking for. Then understood where she was getting at.

"Um...uh...nobody. Absolute...absolutely nobody at all. It was...uh...a-a bloody salesman trying to sell wares to us I tell ya. I-I...uh...I told...I told him: No...we don't like people knocking on our door, trying to um...trying to sell us stuff.."

Lydia looked apathetic and shrugged. "That'd be Ysolda...sounds like something she would do. But you did the right thing by getting rid of her. I do the same. The Thane gets quite bothersome."

Wheatley nodded frantically. "Uh...yes...that is...that is true."

Lydia went back into her room and shut the door. Wheatley heaved a sigh of relief. Good. Why he had lied just now astounded him, but it's what she wanted. He rolled around on his mobile, trying to look for her.

" _Are-are you there?_ " He whispered, his optic scanning the lower floor. She'd vanished completely, much to her bizarre methods. Then again, she was good at hiding. He kept rolling about, desperate to find her. He needed to tell her. Seeing her face again sent up a huge spark that did a number to his circuits that he had search through his programming for the right emotion drive to use.

" _Love?_ "

Oh the things he needed to tell her. To get off his system and to constantly relay the message. It became such a burden when he was floating up in space. And she was here. And she was alive. He was glad...no...he was over the moon that he could finally apologize to her. Memories flooded back, the itch that terminated their friendship and...the darkest of all, trying to murder her. He just had to test, to feel that euphoria that made him feel so alive. But it had brought out the worst in him.

" _Love...if you're still around...I want to say...I'm...I'm sorry. I really am sorry...I was...entirely selfish...monstrous even. I-I know you won't be able to forgive me...but...for what I...what I did...I am sorry._ "

Those words were the only things he could whisper out, albeit there was a minor crack in the last sentence. His voice changed entirely.

"I never... _ever_...wanted to hurt you. I- _I_..." He sighed, closing his shutters and lowering his optic in shame. "I am...so...so...very... _sorry_..."

Wheatley sobbed quietly, his emotional programming going haywire. But he allowed it. He allowed the guilt and the sadness to function and twist his inner self to agonizing levels. It was his own fault. He was the one who done the deed and became so obsessed with her solving his tests. He felt the need to spill his mind to her, to gather and repeat as he way of showing her his absolute regret. His words, angry, berating, needy and outright lustful in disgust. He should have been right back with those zombie looking things.

He wasn't aware that she had walked behind him and rested her hands on his outer plates with a softness that was eventually felt. His optic opened wide, frantically looking around for the source.

"Is...is that you?" He muttered and turned his claw around. "I want to see you in front of me...if you can."

A moment's hesitation and she had squatted before the sphere. She pulled back her hood and smiled, allowing him to see her sleek, tied, black hair, her rosy cheeks and sparkling grey eyes. She lifted her hands, resting their palms on his front plates. Wheatley shook a little, still a bit internally unbalanced.

"Good. Th-thank you. Now. We can talk. I don't know if I can get this across enough an-"

She placed her finger to his optic. He knew that meant for him to shut up. He was used to that by now. She grabbed something from behind her. A piece of ruffled light brown paper. She pointed to herself, then to him then pointed to a tiny Dragon insignia on one side. He'd seen that symbol before on a book. He took it with one of his claws, then went to one of the book shelves and looked at their covers, throwing them behind him when it wasn't the one he was looking for. He grunted with frustration and constantly spoke to himself with a series of no's. Then finally...

"Aha! Got it!"

He turned to face her, but she was no longer then. He scanned again, but found no trace of her. She'd left without saying goodbye.

" _Chell_..."

* * *

Doug was still shaking slightly after that mentally scarring endeavour.

They'd walked to the rightfully named Sleeping Tree and it's inviting enchantments. So pristine, so alien in fact. He could have sworn to see a similar oddity tested at Aperture if he remembered correctly. The Dragonborn walked into the eery pond and approached the tree. It obviously wasn't volatile if the Dragonborn had just walked right into it, then again, she wouldn't care. She grabbed her dagger and dug into the trunk of the tree and pulled something out, placing it into her small pouch. She then wandered over to the Giant, and started sorting through his clothes.

Doug shrugged his shoulders and sat down by the edge of the pond and took off his boots, then carefully dipped his feet into the water. It was soothing enough to make him sigh with content. It gave him free reign to look over the glorious tree before him. Another image, burned into his psyche. It was lovely, brilliant, perfect...and making him drowsy. His hands had set on the edge as he began to forget his problems staring at it. His brows creased with confusion as he felt a sequence of small rumbles that gradually got bigger. He looked at his reflection in the water, seeing ripples accommodating the waves of vibration. He looked behind him, the Dragonborn so intently focused on rummaging through the giants loot that she didn't detect the second Gi- _OH GOD_.

Doug withheld a gasp as he bit into his knuckles, too stunned to warn the Dragonborn of the oncoming monstrosity. He fumbled as he tried to stand up, his hands and fingers flicking all over the place, unsure of what he should do. Surely the Dragonborn was skilled enough to detect it? Wasn't she?

He'd gotten closer, with a spiked wooden club in his hand. Doug gritted his teeth, with frail knees wobbling. _Come on, turn around_.

When he realized the Dragonborn wasn't going to budge, he looked around for anything small to throw. There was a stone the size of a golf ball on the edge of the pond. He promptly picked it up and examined it. Fear and desperation ran through his veins as sweat dropped down his forehead, his right hand starting to shake. He glimpsed at it, thinking he was insane...then recalled he already was.

To hell with it.

He through the stone at the giants head, a grunt enacting from the unsightly tall being. It turned around in a slugged motion, rage burning in it's eyes. Doug swallowed. There was undecided argument within that was calling him a brave man and an idiot at the same time. Meanwhile the Dragonborns continued ignorance astounded him. How could she not know he was there?

The Giant started walking towards Doug and slowly picked up the pace. Doug hissed through his teeth before making a break for it as the overly tall humanoid fell into a full-out run, with his club in hand, ready to make mince meat out of the fragile man. He called out for the Dragonborn as he kept running, the giants roar finally snapping the Dragonborn out of her trance.

She stood up slowly, looking towards the dead giant and placed some items into a bag. She cracked her neck and groaned, rolling her eyes as she reared her head in Doug's direction. Her brows creased with confusion as she looked around for the scrawny individual. She cracked her knuckles to pass the time and unsheathed her sword in the meanwhile. She did not tell him he could disappear like this. Then a smirk seemed to carve into her cheeks. Her quirky, brash smirk.

Her eyes darted on him as Doug ran passed, arms flailing and screaming his head off as the giant kept up on trying to squish him to mushy pieces. The Dragonborn wanted to laugh, but knew this was a serious matter. She also didn't tell him he could to whacked up into the near-regions of space. A sigh escaped her lips as she whistled for Kodlak. None too long after the horse came trotting by. She whacked the bags on the horse and jumped on, digging her heels into his sides. They bolted as she could see Doug still trying to flee the giants wrath. No. He'd helped to kill the first Giant. He needed the strength to kill another. She wasn't going to do it. Not this time. Her decision settled in pretty quickly, becoming rather proud in her obnoxious seams.

She followed them both as Doug struggled to run up a hill. He slipped over, his knees scrapping against harsh rock below, making him wince slightly and gasp for air. He wobbled and continued to crawl up the hill, digging his desperate and shaky fingers into the earth as the hill got steeper. He froze in place as the Giants panting got louder, vibrating through Doug's very fragile bones. He quivered and started whimpering, not really wanting to die right now. Where was the Dragonborn where you needed her?

He held his head down, knowing the Giant was. The Giant roared, scaring the hell out of Doug and forcing him to roll over and shield his ears, only to for his eyes to widen and see the Giant attempting the thwack him with his club. Doug rolled to dodge the first whack to his right, then rolled to his right to dodge the second whack to his left. He screamed as the Giant threw the club down, Doug spreading his legs as the club nearly buried itself between them. Doug began bellowing incomprehensible things as he held his head. "Oh please mummy I don't want to die!"

The Giant pulled the the club out of the ground as Doug attempted to climb backwards, his breathing so fast he could almost faint and drop dead on his own, saving the Giant from doing it himself. He would love to welcome death at some point in his life, but for now...

He instinctively held out his hands in front of him in some kind of outdated attempt to shield himself. He expected a cracked skull when he opened his eyes. Instead, heat and energy drew itself into his palms, Doug feeling the burn slightly. He gulped when nothing was happening, another sweatdrop rolling down his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. The Giant didn't do anything as all Doug could hear was the sound of his pounding heartbeat again. He tried breathing, like what the Dragonborn had imitated before and took one deep breath. He opened one eye in a instant flicker and saw the Giant about to thwump. Doug screamed.

A rush of flames soared out of his hands, burning the club down to it's very last ash particles, dumbfounding the giant as he looked at his palm, wringing his hand and looking around for it's precious. Doug, meanwhile, looked at his hands. He'd forgotten half the spells he'd learned and yet, some of it was still in him all this time. The magic. Killing was dreadful yes. His head turned to the Dragonborn as she sat on Kodlak nearby with her bow and arrow ready. She gave him an expression that attempted to speak with him, trying to give facial cues on what he should do next. All he could read that she wanted him to kill it. What?

He looked at the Giant, who was searching for it's club, scratching it's head and grumbling about. He realized this poor creature was just being territorial. It was protecting it's home and they'd invaded space that they shouldn't have. It'd didn't have the mental capacity of a normal human either, unable to feel confusion and anger at once. Doug attempted to sit up at stare at it with awe.

They were sure dopey.

He wobbled getting up and very slowly approached. More clashing information burned in his forethoughts. The Dragonborn's very telling distinctions were telling him to put it out of it's misery. But...they were the ones causing the misery in the first place. This was their home. Like all creatures, they deserved somewhere to live and thrive without being interrupted. Was this the norm of Skyrim? Like ancient lands destined to be conjured. It created a pit in Doug's stomach. How...primal of humanity.

Doug detected the Dragonborns impatience, trying and failing to shrug off her piercing stare. A tear ran down his face. They'd killed it's friend and left the area to rot without their care, just to please some Jarl and get a reward. Shaking his head, he looked at the Dragonborn. He really didn't want to do it.

She lowered her head, intensifying her glare. Doug gulp, feeling it right to his bones. She threw over her sword, her beloved blade, dropping it in front of him. He looked down, eyes traveling all over the sharp and dangerous device.

Words travelled again in the midst of a unwarranted hallucination.

_"How far we've gone...blood and spirit_

_An incarnate of our eagle eyes._

_The wolf within drives the hunt_

_From tethered ground to flintered skies."_

Wolf hallucinations seemed to gather around him, not wanting to meet their eyes. They seemed to watch his every move with judging intent.

_Hunt and the hunted._

_Cold merciless or prey_

_Each ends with untimely death_

_Different as night and day._

Had he wanted to murder...again. His mind fleeted to the imagery of the woman down below. wallowing in a sleek version of hell that sent shivers down his spine. A hell he helped create.

_A sin against man that he achieved long ago. The Woman Down Below..._

_Chilling chants and moonlight taunts._

_Make up business up front_

_Where the Woman back from below_

_Seeks the moral crisis hunt._

Of course none of it made sense to him. Half the time it was mostly drabble that dropped off the top of his head. Time slowed, her hair danced in the wind. Intimidation of greater clarity of the similar three feminine bodies that he'd become involved in.

The wolves continued their circling around their prey, with the Dragonborn leading in front. Her mask was the warrior queen, but underneath it lay buried a partial near-breaking point for patience. Never was a decision so unclear to him. To take a choice to slaughter another being under all the moralities he stood for. Why was it so hard for to make the final bout? His hand continued to shake, like when he had held the stone. He tried holding it tighter, feeling the the palm of it's owner molded into its handle. It hadn't been right, but she wanted him to do it.

He licked his dry lips and let time flow slower. The circle of wolves walked forward. Was he going to do this?

He made the first steps forward. Progress, at least. He was a scientist. No more. The Cube...he missed the cube...where was it's wise words when he so desperately needed it. Of all the questions he could ask, now he couldn't bear the hear the sound of his own hoarse voice.

The Dragonborn lifted her head with subtle pride as he continued to approach the giant. She was neither happy, angry or sad at this point. She was content with an expressionlessness that she could bring to bear. She was either going to glad...or disappointed if Doug followed through.

The sword wasn't too light or too heavy. Just the way the Dragonborn liked it. It glistened with the the twilight sun. Another light sigh. He closed his eyes and walked forward more.

The wolves walked forward more, their nature is to be curious. It was the Dragonborns brigade and Doug's superiors in a weird sort of form. No sign of the Woman from Down Below but it definitely felt like she was there.

"I don't want things to be as is. But God help me if I was sent here on purpose, or it's still an entirety of a dream that never ended...and never will."

Exempt from the fact that he'd excepted some realities here, he could feel...sense some falsehoods within. The Dragonborn held an iron stare.

"I've survived by running and hiding. But what if...in this place...I need to take on far greater burdens than Aperture. I've helped out many so far...it couldn't be my final fate though."

True. The adrenaline rush giving the flight scenario rather than the fight. He'd experience enough to notice that. He couldn't fight the Woman from Down Below. Even if I couldn't overcome the fear of hurting someone to the point of of killing them, it would at least get the Dragonborns respect. So he hoped.

He looked at his hands, those encased in the protective gauntlets and could help or hinder. It lingered within no matter where he went. He began the process by walking forward with very small steps. Opening and closing his fists, he then summoned the flames spell in both of his hands. A tear ran down his face. Time sped up again, back to normal as Doug charged and casted the incinerating power upon the giant.

The Giant didn't understand as it was being burnt to a crisp. It's deep, bellowing cries shook through the ground as fire flicked of it's charring body. It howled into the air as his wolf hallucinations charged into the creature, trickling water falling down his face. No. This wasn't right. This was torture, not murder. He took out a dagger that he only used for practical purposes and tried to determine how he would put it down. It flailed, making it difficult to search for an entry point.

A Wolf hallucination reappeared as it lay by the Giants legs. It gave Doug an epiphany as he regretably aimed his dagger to it's feet. He watched the blood burst out and another cry shaking the air around him. He stabbed the other foot, forcing the Giant to fall over backwards, Doug running back as the Giants body hit the ground, causing a minor tremor. He wandered over to it's head and looked into its sorrowful looking eyes. It didn't deserve this.

He had no choice. Doug looked at the dagger one last time before slicing the Giants neck in one swift motion.

All lay silent.

Doug shook with despair as the blood spilled out. It's mouth was half open and the light had left it's eyes entirely. With his fingers he closed the Giants eyes properly. The Wolf disappeared as he heard the Dragonborn trot beside him.

"Well done." She said. Her tone was smug enough to irritate him.

"Was this necessary?" He asked her, voice almost cracking.

The Dragonborn hopped off Kodlak and stood next to Doug.

"The monster wiped out an entire passing caravan. It had to be done." She explained.

Doug swallowed. "What if they were acting on instinct? They might have gotten too close or-or touched or tried to kill one of their mammoths? Surely you would have to think of their point of view."

The Dragonborn grunted.

"Giants are giants." She said, squatting down and scanning around the creature.

"They're dangerous to anyone and any thing. One big whack from their clubs and you'll kiss the sky."

Doug looked down in shame. It still didn't make it feel right. It was wrong.

"I don't know what way you guys do it from where you've been, but in Skyrim, it's all about survival. Once a threat becomes apparent to us, we must eliminate it."

Doug looked off in the distance. Survival. He knew all about it. He'd been doing that since forever. Time seemed to slip away from him and memories turned into fuzz. The Woman from Down Below. Giants were nothing compared to her. Nothing...was compared to her.

"I don't understand why you made me do it." Doug said with a hint of annoyance.

"You know I don't like hurting people."

The Dragonborn finished up gathering materials before heading to Kodlak and resting her hand on his back.

"In this situation I guess it's the norm. Okay? I'm not a Nord! I'm an American. We are all sorts of people. I'm what you call a pacifist..."

The Dragonborn rolled her eyes. "No you're a coward. A pacifist deals with petty words against angry, unreasonable bastards. Pacifists don't exist in Skyrim. So instead, we have people who fight for their own morals. Besides, I'd gotten you to attack me. Anger fuels your swing. All you need is skill to aim your blade and watch your feet. Or else you will die an early death...cold and alone in the world."

Again, it was a situation so familiar that only those with the right attitude end up on top. Doug rubbed his head, getting a headache over it. His eyes darted around, trying not to look at the Dragonborn.

"You've passed my tests then." She said, turning around.

Doug creased his brows. "Tests?" He repeated with confusion.

The Dragonborn twitched her nose. "I wanted to try and see if you were perfectly capable of handling this on your own. So far, you've put down a Giant on your own. First time I wanted to get you to grasp on to the feeling of holding another life in your hands."

Doug grunted. He had done that before. He was about to open his mouth and explain then realized he hadn't told that part of the story yet. But it was still relevant.

"I had worked to save lives not to delete them." He said, rage building.

"A Giant's life equals a life of that of a dog. You put them out of their misery when they've gone too far." The Dragonborn iterated.

Though Doug shouldn't have been surprised, her words were boiling his blood. His thoughts became jumbled again as he tried to contain himself. She stared at him, blatantly showing off her superiority.

"Doug, I let myself get hurt and I was ignoring the Giants footsteps. I wanted to see your reactions. I wandered around without you and tested your resolve on your own. You passed those as well."

He leered at her, eyes wide but full of a powerful urge to scream.

"Why? What for? There isn't any reason besides seeing if I will survive? For goodness sake I'm fine! I've been running around for half my life and you're just doing this to test me? You could have died! Then! There! With such a deliberate ignorance like you have no faith in me? _You have no idea what I'm capable of!_ " He yelled. He stood back, surprised at himself and covering his mouth with his hands, unable to look the Dragonborn in the eye.

She rose both her eyebrows. She lowered them as she rested her hands on her hips, elbows facing outwards in a stand over stance. He could tell she wasn't going to let him get over the top of her.

" **There**. You're a sad, _shy_ little man who claims he is capable of a lot of things. I got the word of a scrawny, 'American' who says he can do it on his own. So tell me, Doug the Almighty, you want to know the real reason I was testing you?" She asked.

Doug nodded with a small subtlety.

The Dragonborn smirked. "I've had a lot of companions over the months. Each of them, brash, bold and ready to cleave. It's a custom in Skyrim that if you've earned enough respect of an individual, displayed your prowess in a way they deem fit, that they can call you a friend and vice versa. On top of that, with their broad swords they will fight for you. They will gladly aid you when the time comes. It's also what it means to be a Shield-Sibling in the Companions group. Each of them...are so...similar. Nord culture is to blame I know." She explained.

Doug blinked. He recalled the Dragonborn being wounded by a Draugr. Had she done that deliberately to see if he could follow her orders correctly?

"And after a while, it gets so boring. Same kind of war cries from their same old clans."

Doug lifted his head. "I'm guessing that's why you never take Lydia anywhere anymore."

The Dragonborn gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Right on. Lydia is a brilliant housecarl don't get me wrong. She's just..."

Doug watched her as she pretended to grasp something, her face scrunched as if trying to find the perfect word.

" _Boring_?" Doug continued.

The Dragonborn sighed. "Since then, I've had ally after ally after ally. I know it's a pathetic issue. I've told myself that many many times. But there's no thrill in bringing in someone who knows everything. I have this need to teach and guide. Where as these people already have their inborn policies on how to kill and cooperate."

Doug started to see where she was getting at. She was bringing comparisons from everyone to herself. Of course that would get boring. But Doug had suddenly created a theory around it all. It was a feeling that drove most women that he knew back at Aperture. Of course they knew what they wanted but in the end work took over and they no longer had time to do so.

"We have our needs." He began. "But in your case you have a need for slaughter. But the need to teach and guide is a new one. Maybe you should marry someone and have kids." He said, almost jokingly.

She twitched. "Get out of it! You're insane..."

Doug pounced backwards, a pit of nervousness welling up in his stomach. "I know but..."

The Dragonborn shook her head. She looked like she was getting very angry again. "Forget about it. Forget about what I said. Forget everything. If you're not up to killing people then fine. Stay here and die...otherwise..."

That...was uncalled for. Why was she getting pissed off all of a sudden.

"I just tested you to see if you were going to be a good and useful assistant. But no...you have to be a dick and become philosophical with me-"

What? This didn't make any sense at all. He wasn't being philosophical at all. Well, not at the moment.

"Hey wa-"

The Dragonborn grumbled. "You...you hesitated! I saw it! I can't have you hesitating on me!"

She said, she then started whacked the palm of her hand with the edge of the other.

"I need someone who is quick, on the ball and paying attention to absolutely everything, not pondering around thinking about Gods know what. I'm sorry."

Now this was really puzzling Doug. He swore he could hear a hint of sadness in her tone. Was it something he said?

"What am I supposed to do then? Sit around and do nothing all day?" He asked.

She sighed. "You've garnered a good enough reputation with the people of Whiterun. Your inventions have been proven to be quite popular with the Jarl. You tend to his needs and you'll end up never having to go hungry again. And you...you and your ball can have a house of your own...inventing things like you should. I should...I shouldn't have pressured you like this. Come on...hop on back. We'll head home and get your stuff sorted in the morning."


	9. Robots and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug has a lot of work to do.

 

He tried to be analytical about it. What was it that he said that made her change her behaviour like that? He'd done what she had told him and suddenly it was all about a lack of decisiveness that did not impress her at all. After all he had done for her, she was practically telling him to get up and leave.

From a brief recollection, he'd told her to get married and have kids on the terms of her need to guide and teach. Those were her words. And he was just transforming the data into information she could understand. Under heavy thinking, he believed there something far deeper in the twisted social system of her mind. Something had gone terribly wrong in the early stages of her life.

He'd heard the orphan story one night. Murder of one's parents does not exactly make one normal, even if they tried. But it kind of justified the every slice and slaughter that vented that internal anger. Part of him made him glad he did a bit of Psychological study, if not some of the important parts. And in that, reading several orphans stories extends the research into some of the pathological pathways that one endures when reaching an age where the issue hadn't been pressed, placing deep-seated problems that would linger on for the rest of her life.

They had gotten back and the Dragonborn hadn't said a single word since they returned. She'd spoken to Lydia briefly, although Doug didn't hear what they were saying. She was still silent for the rest of the given week, only hearing from Lydia that the Dragonborn had secured a house not too far away and that he was given permission to make alterations to see that his inventive mind did not go to waste. He'd called it Gildekin, after the the Gildergreen tree that it sat next to. He felt guilty that his house was in the Wind District rather than the Plains District, where the Dragonborn lived. Still, she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she liked having the house so close to the main gates. Heimskr did live there previously, but he had met an unfortunate fate according to the Dragonborn. She didn't say what happened to him but what ever it was...he didn't want to share the same ending. So he ended up renovating it with some of the coin he'd made with helping with maintenance (and a little bit borrowed from the Dragonborn herself who didn't really mind too much.)

Wheatley settled in nicely. Doug had fitted his own personal management rail throughout the house to make it easier for him to get around. The house was double story, so Wheatley had a fixture of the entire floor plan for both floors. It took him a few weeks to build it with some help of the local Nords who were only glad and entirely interested in learning his tricks of the trade. He'd repaid them in installing proper pipelines and so forth.

Within an entire month, the City of Whiterun had become a small metropolis, earning the envy of the other holds. People had requested Doug from all over, to help build or even buy his mighty inventions. He'd written books on different subjects and was very content on just helping people out. There were rumors and myths that he had descended from the late Dwemer, which made him shrug and say why not? Anything was possible in Skyrim after all. Besides, it got him well liked in the nordic community, and gave him fuzzy feelings inside.

Still, his concern for the Dragonborn failed to fade away despite that they were drifting apart. Quick glimpses here and there but no real conversations. Wheatley filled in that quite quickly, talking about what ever a core talks about. One day, he'd met up with Lydia at the local inn. He was securing more materials for one of his famous products and talking with the Inn keeper as Lydia came in. She sat next to him by the bar and ordered a mead.

"So..." Said Doug. "How are things?"

Lydia shrugged. "I have to admit...rather strange." She replied.

Doug sipped his milk, still not drinking himself silly again. "Strange?"

Lydia licked the mead off her lips. "She hasn't slept in forever. I know she has awkward sleeping patterns but not once has she slept in her own bed."

Doug rubbed his chin. "Isn't that normal? I mean, she hardly comes over when she's got a busy schedule."

Lydia sighed, seemingly already defeated. It was an odd sight from the woman, who was normally nearly as strong willed as her Thane. He tilted her head that she held an exhaustion to witness.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

She tapped on the side of the bench, looking awkward. "Look..she hasn't been home in a while. She's most likely being sleeping over at Jovarrskr for all I know."

Doug nodded. "Ah. Times are tough. Being a Harbinger and all..." He wasn't sure he could convince himself with that type of logic.

Lydia sat back. "It's not that. When I do see her around, she looks terrible. She has bags underneath her eyes and I'm worried she's overdoing herself."

Doug frowned but tried to stay optimistic. But a cloud of doubt hovered. Lydia knew her better than anyone.

"Do you want me to go over there and have a look?" He asked.

Lydia brushed hair out of her face. "The Companions don't just let anyone through their doors. But since she's the Harbinger, you may or may not be an exception."

Doug nodded. "Yeah. It's all I can do at the moment."

Lydia drank her mead, then rested the mug on the table. "Don't you have somewhere to be though? Things to build and things to fix?"

Doug gave a subtle shake of his head, not bothered. "The people understand it takes time to invent things. I'm amazed they have patience."

Lydia gave a small chuckle. "Everything takes forever. Believe me. So unless it's urgent, don't expect something straight away. Heck, look at the Dark Brotherhood. Word around Skyrim is that their assassins are having to go out and seek clients. What an odd sort of thing."

Doug nodded. Then lifted his head. He remembered something from a while back. He traced his thoughts back. A courier had knocked on the door of Breezehome.

A letter.

That lack of prospective bothering was soon filled.

"Lydia..." He said. "Can I ask you something?"

Lydia leaned her arms on the bench. "Yeah what is it?"

"Two months ago, the Dragonborn got a letter. I believe, after that is when she started acting off." He belowed. Doug had proposed that to himself with a minor time period.

Lydia blinked. "Hmmm...you might be right. My Thane usually allows me to read her letters since she obnoxiously declared that we had no secrets between us."

Doug looked at her with serious intent. "She didn't let you."

Another sip. "Yes."

They'd talked to each other for a little while longer. The Dragonborn had been a funny acting individual in the three to four months that they knew each other. He was still fearful of going outside the walls, afraid of what would happen if he took a single step. It was only with the Dragonborn that he felt...safe. Secure. She knew what she was doing and he had her direct confidence. But she had lied to him, making him question what trust they had with each other.

He'd always been honest with her. No doubt about that. Because he hadn't had the experience like she had. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He was hesitant for that very reason. A uncertainty that was within Doug for most of his life. The very hunch that protected him from the outside world. As well as the inside in other cases. He had returned back home and had a snack, then went back to work on a new project. He had another Wheatley Transport Vehicle coming along nicely. Getting around on wheels and clamping hands wasn't really practical. He'd bump into things, knock stuff over and get told off for breaking vases and bowls that Doug wasn't keen on wasting his money replacing them. Every so often he'd work on it after he'd finish another of his fantastical, nifty inventions. He'd remembered a minor blueprint of a prototype robot that Aperture had been preparing. After decades of physical, solid human test subjects, there were plans of cheaper test subjects that could save them a lot of money on insurance costs and boost their recycling economy. It was proposed during the numerous Artificial Intelligence studies that were in order before Doug had joined as a undergraduate. The Wheatleymobile 2.0 he would call it. Fill with proper arms and legs and numerous joints just to make him feel like he was a proper human.

Speaking of Artificial Intelligence, Doug noticed Wheatley was still quiet. Unusually quiet. Doug had built his own room upstairs filled with books and odd trinkets that Wheatley saw and liked, and pestered Doug to buy them for him. Doug didn't think much of it, but in truth they reminded him of Chell.

Bits of orange and white, using his claws on the Wheatleymobile, he tried to mold a sculpture of her, using previous data imagery and saved videos on his system as a reference. He missed her. Dearly. He wanted her to come back. The sculpture was half-finished and not to mention, looking out of proportion. All he needed to do was create her perfectly shaped strong arms, holding a portal gun. It was what he thought about in space mostly. Retracing back to when she held him, remembering the genuine touch she gave to him, like a mother to a child.

"Ahh love...it's a shame. It's a shame you can't be here and stay..." He said to the sculpture.

"Cause-cause I've gotten real smarter...did you know that the lizard people can breath underwater...oh, and they don't like being called lizard people very much...found that out the hard way." He said, remembering when he was about to punched by one of them in the inn the other day. Not pleasant.

A knock on the door prompted Wheatley to throw a sheet on top of it out of panic.

"It's open...I-I mean, just a minute!"

He shuffled the sculpture away in a cupboard, making loud banging noises that perplexed Doug, who began wondering what the core was doing. He didn't bother asking.

"Okay okay...you can come in!"

Doug entered, seeing Wheatley sitting in the middle of the room with his claws behind his back, looking intently at the man.

"Lovely night innit? It'd be a shame to waste it inside! What with the great big..full...moon...nss..."

Doug had to press his point in regardless. "Okay...uhh yes it is. I was just going to say the Wheatleymobile 2.0 is almost complete. I just need to-"

Doug stopped as he heard a muffled crash from his right as Wheatley's optic was left wide open, then his eye fell to the bottom left.

"Uh...s'nothing. You did not just hear the sound of crashing! Uh...W-well it's a speaker...yes...a speaker. It makes noises and one of them happens to be crashing. Satisfying, brilliant, agonizing crashing."

Doug ignored it. "I'm going to pretend for the moment that I'm going to believe you and say that I have almost finished your walker..."

Wheatley lit up. completely forgetting his problem. "Oh...Oh good! You're amazing Douggy. Just brilliant. While I do say I was having a whale of a time in this Wheatleymobile I believe this...this...robot enhancement doomalacky will be great! No more stinking claws...although, I have never used...hands before. Claws are great...but uh the fact I'd have what you call thumbs."

Doug smiled. "Human thumbs separate us from the more primitive species. That and our growing intelligence."

Wheatley examined his claw, twirling it about until he saw a bit of sculpture material on the top claw. Noticing this, he withdrew it from view. "You didn't see that."

Doug shook his head. He didn't care much for Wheatley's shenanigans. "No...no I didn't. So. Want to try the walker out?"

* * *

They'd gotten downstairs where Doug had shuffled back down into his seat, picking up a screw driver and making tiny adjustments. Wheatley sat on his management rail, eye darting on the walker. It had a familiar shape and feel to them, a metallic silver that dully glistened in the candlelight with a series of cables and cords. It fell a bit short compared to Doug's average human height. It had painted blue shoulder pads and knees pads that had WM 2.0 written in small industrial red test. He then looked at the blue prints. It had the Aperture mark on them, and had all sorts of details and nitpicks on them that Wheatley was convinced he entirely understood. On top read, 'ATLAS'. Another sheet had something similar, and that was what Doug was working on. Now he understood it was modified model of the ATLAS Frame.

Wheatley could slightly recall the robot projects, seeing their failed carcasses discarded in large mechanical tips that were nestled near the incinerators. The thought scared him. Back at the facility, Doug and Wheatley would avoid going near there and deliberately take the long way around. It created a surprising spark in his circuitry first time he'd seen it, huddling around Doug long enough to not even look at it.

Doug understood this completely. He'd helped work on many of the cores and never met somewhere as so timid as Wheatley. There were dozens of cores that had their own unique personalities. Doug had undergone a little bit of detective work to find out their programming codes. Unsurprisingly, he'd had to hack through the network of passwords and firewalls, until finding out about the Neurological Brain Scans. His boss, by the name of Henry, was in charge of the entire project. He'd known about the scores of test subjects sacrificed in the name of science, and was sworn to secrecy or else be subject to being fired, or worse. But the line had to be drawn somewhere.

* * *

Months in to his job, he started feeling ill. All employees lived on-sight as per the job requirements. Doug was happy with that. His uncle was one of the higher ups so he could jump into it straight away. The rooms were extremely tiny. And in dull white colours, a common theme. Double bed with white sheets and a single piece of artwork that according the studies, was supposed to make you feel refreshed. And the lack of noise...Watercooler gossip developed a rumor about the silence in the bedrooms. The walls weren't insulated with asbestos, much to Doug's relief, but with a type of sound-breaker. It was well known that the employees needed their beauty sleep. Doug hated it. At night, he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat ringing in his ears. He'd started with hallucinating voices, inanimate objects taunting him, bringing him down and breaking his mind. He'd seen a therapist and talked with on-sight Psychiatrists who prescribed him with the right medication that provided him with much relief.

Doug was productive in his own, little tight cubicle with a bobble head Siberian Husky sitting on top of his monitor. When he wasn't helping out on projects or doing his primary duty with graphics maintenance, as par the Aperture Image Format, he'd assess and type out test subject reports like everyone else in his department. There were usually dozens of test subjects processed each day and hundreds per month. Within months, he'd recognized a few names in the lists. Fellow employees and some employers. Some came back, some didn't. Some had a blast and others just didn't want to work there anymore.

It was then the Core allocation program was brought in by Henry. Doug had expressed his condition quietly to his friend who found the perfect solution was to have each employee buddied with their own personality core. Doug thought it was brilliant. He'd finally have someone to talk to, since he wasn't really much of a social person. No one down here was, unless you prefer being married to science a social aspect a physical construct.

It was then he first met Wheatley. Chatty, timid thing, but they became the best of friends. Wheatley's nonsensical jabbering was annoying at first, but he came to accept it, needing that more than going mad without proper contact. That wasn't to say that was all that Wheatley did. Each core was corresponded with their own job and had their own employee identification number. Each was tested of their capabilities and general knowledge then were allocated with their role in the facility. Doug was surprised that Wheatley was chosen to tend to the human test subjects. Wheatley was quite confused and unsure of what to do. Doug was more than happy, as his buddy, to help him out.

Doug showed Wheatley where the chambers were for the hundreds of test subjects in storage, then the Extended Relaxation Center where there were the long-term resting subjects. He'd explained how each was put asleep until they were woken up to do a series of tests the scientists had in store for them. Wheatley became enamoured with being in charge of the tending and asked to pluck one out for testing. Doug had to explain to him that he had to wait until one of the scientists had a course set out for one.

He then took the core to the test chambers. There was one test subject already on the course, holding a peculiar white gun in his hand and wearing an orange jumpsuit. He'd gotten through just fine. Wheatley became dumbfounded by the portal process, which Doug, again, worded out the simplest of terms for the dim ball.

Teaching Wheatley the basics wasn't too hard. Doug had to repeat himself several times. And before long, he found himself more comfortable with the prospect, only to still be slightly disgusted that he had to handle their more...unsanitary liquids. Doug reminded him that was only for when they had to be woken up to be checked of course.

Doug remembered those times well. It was...relaxing but tense at first. His concern for the core grew as Wheatley consistently asked questions about humans. Like, where do they charge and what not. His own knowledge was based on what had be programmed, according to what Henry had told him. It was then Doug's curious nature got to the better of him. He had to investigate the Personality Core codes.

Doug was a whizz when it came to hacking. Thousands of dollars worth of computer science education weren't wasted as he bypassed the online security networks. He'd come across a confidential file that was filled with a list of cores and personality byproducts. Wheatley was one of them. He'd had Wheatley behind him the entire time, asking him to be a good core and keep an eye out for anyone who walked passed his office cubicle. He delved in far deeper than he should have, but he'd taken extreme precautions so he wouldn't get caught. Paranoia was at an all time high, whisking down far too many pills for his own good. Fingers twitched as he rapidly typed and clicked his mouse. He stopped as he scanned Wheatley's file and almost gasped at it's content. He looked over his shoulder as Wheatley gently hummed and flapped his handles about as he hung on the management rail. Innocent, ignorant Wheatley. He turned back. He quickly closed the file as Wheatley warned him that Henry was coming over.

He wanted to show Doug something.

And dear God did he show something.

Their latest project was the biggest. A master AI system that would help maintain the status of the facility. Doug became slightly anxious, being around it. It was bigger than anything he'd seen. He'd also seen a lot of sci-fi films to know the possibilities surrounding dependent faith on a system that held a lot of power.

After small chatter and a bit of a small check out of the system, he went straight back to his cubicle and resumed hacking. Wheatley pestered him briefly about what Henry wanted to show him. Doug ignored him as he poured his fingers onto the keyboard, finding out about the Master AI.

Doug threw up a little in his mouth as he read through the file, making Wheatley worried. Doug shot up from his chair, needing to take a breather. Wheatley was adamant in following him. But Doug had to move. He'd walked passed an interview room and bumped into an employee who came out of the room. He noted Doug for his perfect timing and handed him a vermillion folder. Doug eyed the file curiously, opening up and seeing big red text stamped on the first page. "Rejected."

He was about to ask about it, before his co-worker walked off without saying anything. Doug looked through the window next to the door, seeing a hunched over woman with tanned skin, tight white singlet with loose orange three quarter pants, her black hair tied back with bits hang out on the side and a bit of a stubborn expression on her face. But she didn't look angry, happy or sad. Her body language and hair style suggested professionalism with an attitude problem but something about her made Doug's thoughts click. He didn't understand what, however.

He'd filed the folder away after he inserted the details onto the test subject list, listing her as test subject #1498. Eying the reports carefully, his initial thought description was correct. Her last name was erased, making Doug even more interested in this woman. Flipping a page, he could see that her psychological profile was rather...well noted. Scoring into the 99th percentile in the traits of tenacity, Doug read further that his thoughts about her being stubborn were also correct. It also explained why she was rejected, due to Apertures testing standards. He took the folder out and stared at it for a long time. In a hunch that suddenly built up, he stored it away into his personal files. He didn't know why and for the life of him didn't care. He needed that file close...in a flight of sudden preparation.

In the coming weeks the Master AI's development was nearing to it's activation stage. Doug grew increasingly anxious because of it. He'd up the dosage of his medication, despite his doctors suggested he do the opposite. His sanity was at the end of a losing battle and nearly snapped when the Master AI was finally activated.

Despite the fact that they had personality cores everywhere in the facility, Henry had become entirely obsessed with the fact that what they were making was the absolute pinnacle of science and what they strive to achieve. He had Doug help him in minor fractions to develop the Morality Core as a precaution to the original activation protocols. Doug wasn't too convinced that this was going to work. And as a result, and the sheer accuracy of his gut, it didn't.

Doug recalled being frustrated and annoyed as Wheatley attempt to aid the man to relax. But the babbling core wasn't doing anything to settle him. He had more episodes, skipped taking his medication and mentioned that nobody was bothering to listen to him anymore, despite that Wheatley was on the only one who could possibly put up with it and pleaded that he was listening the entire time, no matter how insane the remarks had been. Doug had the inkling that they only kept him around for the time being due to his connection to a higher up. He was on the verge of breaking point when he found out Wheatley was taken away. When he asked about it, it was mentioned that Wheatley had the programming necessary to help hinder the Master AI and get them to control her a lot easier, his new identification stationed as, "Intelligence Dampening Sphere." Doug knew that Wheatley did not like his intelligence being insulted. But the scientists were smart enough not to give a word about it to him, instead explaining that he had done so well (Not really) in tending to the test subjects that they had given him a promotion to help out the Master AI. From memory, Doug was told that Wheatley was ecstatic and very eager to assist, that little idiot brain of his filtering out what he thought were great ideas. The Master AI absolutely hated it. She'd declared to be good if the Sphere was taken out and that she felt no need to hurt anybody. To say that while the scientists were...intelligent, their judgment, was completely absent.

They'd organized a "Bring your Daughter to Work Day." on the account that the Master AI was going to set up standardized testing for them. All for science of course. Doug knew this was far worse than what Wheatley could conjure. At least he didn't want anyone to die. The day came as the daughters were brought to the main testing chambers. One waited, in her orange Aperture jumpsuit, in the waiting room with the other girls. She sat there, with no elegance but a frame of stillness, not a scrap of happiness on her. He recognized her as the woman from the interview room. It dawned on him that the erasing of her last name made a lot more sense. He stood from behind the glass window as he held a depressed Wheatley in his arms.

Wheatley made comments about the girl. Doug stared at her. The air around her seemed to shift at her outlier personality. She refused to speak to any of the other girls nor did she bother acknowledging their presence. The time came when she was next in line, when...

* * *

Wheatley popped out Doug out of his intensive daydreaming. He could work and day dream at the same time but it was apparent his mind was out of it. Wheatley looked solemn, his optic low.

"What's the problem now?" Doug complained, not aware of the aggressiveness he was showing.

Wheatley was taken a back briefly. "Look...I sort of have a confession to make...that breaking sound up there? That...that was a statue. Crude...yes I know... I wanted to be an artist like you. I'll-I'll stop it there..."

The admission perked Doug up slightly out of his irritant phase. He felt guilty for that brief treatment and gave Wheatley a chance to work it out.

"What were you...trying to make a statue out of?" He asked. He picked Wheatley up and inserted him into the replica ATLAS frame. He detected Wheatley's hesitance to talk about it. Which was strange, considering Wheatley pretty much talked about everything.

"Uh...nothing really. Just a bit...just a bit of this and that. Nothing of the greatest importance...now...so...when can I start walking around in this thing? I-I wanna try it!"

Doug withheld his statements for later as he made the final adjustments. "Now...go on."

Wheatley lowered his top shutter, clearly not understanding what he meant. "Uhh...um it's not...AGHHHH!"

Doug stood back as the left arm on the walker frame started swing around, smacking the tables and throwing tools and pieces of metal everywhere. It shook with Wheatley's fear as he looked at Doug with a frightened eye.

"Ah! Douggy! Euch...is that-is that supposed to happen?" Wheatley pleaded with worry.

Doug squinted and tried to examine in thoroughly. "It's attached to your completely. I've implanted the wires into the back interior of your shell. I think, if I did my research correctly, there was a plan to let cores have their own bodies."

It was a lie of course, but Doug needed to gave that reassurance within the conversation.

"Obviously THAT didn't get sorted did it? It would have been entirely useful in the past." He mentioned sarcastically, lowering his top shutter.

Doug rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the spinning arm. "Don't think...feel."

Wheatley became baffled at it, wracking at his circuits to figure it out. Doug let go of his arm and walked backwards more, to give Wheatley more space. He could tell the core was working so hard at trying to walk at least a few steps. The knee in the right leg started shaking, Doug's face lighting up a smidget. Wheatley noticed and looked down.

"I'm doing it...I can't believe it! It's..."

He flung the leg up to high and fell backwards on his back, emitting a groan of pain. Doug face-palmed. He walked over to give him a hand, when Wheatley shook his head.

"No...no...I've got this...I have got this...just gimme...gimme a chance will ya?" He asked. Doug raised his hands passively and went back to watch. It was going to ideal for the core to finally get around on his own. He lifted his hand, his thin, plastic-metal looking hand and slammed it too hard into the ground, making Doug a bit jumpy. He was a bit shaky at first, but Wheatley soon got the handle of it. A few flops here and there...it was then the core admitted defeat.

"Augh...oh God...Douggy...Douggy can-can you help me out here? Please?"

Doug withheld a sigh and walked over and picked the core up and helped him sit down on the chair. It was obvious Wheatley needed time to work out the kinks of the walker as well as his own programming for it. He rubbed his nose then looked at the floor, seeing a piece of paper. He walked over and picked it up, seeing a dragon symbol on top of it. Upon his trail of thoughts, he figured that this same symbol was on one of the books he'd read at Winterhold. He swore on it. He examined it closely, then figured it had come from Wheatley during his fall. He fixed up the table, then flattened the folded letter on top of it.

"Is this yours?" Doug asked, leaning over the core.

Wheatley glimpsed at, his optic widened. "Oh...oh yes..." He exclaimed. He suddenly moved his hand to grab at a overly fast pace, nearly breaking the table in two.

"Woops...sorry bout that. Bit of muscle there...too much muscle...apparently."

Doug gave Wheatley intensive looks. Wheatley kicked and unresistingly gave way.

"Alright...alright...I got it from...um...look, can we do a pinky promise that you will absolutely, positively, will-will not say this to anyone...even me!" He asked honestly.

Doug watched as Wheatley dragged his hand back to his side, but not before Doug hooked his finger around the folded paper.

"It's from Chell..." He said with sadness, then his expression opened up.  
"Would you believe it? She's here! She's really here! She-she couldn't stay long of course...and you know what? She looks weird outside of that...smelly jumpsuit of hers. Some kind of brown, leather material that was sending off signals...which I then silenced because they were...they were kind of annoying." Wheatley said excitedly.

Doug's eyes widened. Wheatley was a real bad liar yes, but the way he spoke about it was more genuine that he could explain himself. Chell...the one Doug had chosen. Was here. In Skyrim. His own head couldn't wrap itself around the very concept.

Wheatley nodded frantically. "But...Yes yes yes! She's here! I saw her with my own eye! Ohh...if I could show you my recordings...I would have full...blown...proof she is still around...here's me thinking...why would she be philandering around in a death trap such as this? Then I thought...what if this was what it was really like on the surface? I-I...uh...had no idea.."

Doug rested his hand on the core. A million issues were parading their way at the moment. Doug might have enjoyed making things for people and getting decent money for it, his concern for the Dragonborn always came back. But for Chell to reappear...he couldn't...he just couldn't...He dug his fingers into his scalp and rubbed it. One at a time would be nice. He mentally sorted out his priorities quickly before taking his hand off Wheatley.

"Okay...just...let me read the letter first. We'll deal with the Chell matter later." He stated.

Wheatley agreed. "Yes. Okay. So...you gonna deliver the letter? Cause I think it's directed to the Dragon Lady...not you." He asked.

Doug sighed. "She won't find out about it." He assured him.

Wheatley became paranoid. "Are-are you sure? I don't know if it all works that way...I-I mean, she could find out in the unlikely scenario. Maybe it's best for us to be...you know, prepared for it."

Doug gave it several impending thoughts. Wheatley was worried about something as petty as this, then the former scientist didn't know what to do. The letter was to the Dragonborn after all. Lydia mentioned that the Dragonborn had the uncanny ability to sniff things out as they were. Wheatley kept looking back and forth from the letter, as did Doug. Ultimately, both were curious to what was on the letter itself. They ignored it for the moment, as Doug went to work making a few adjustments to the walker.

His eyes kept drawing back to the note, sometimes meeting Wheatley's eye in the moments that passed. More moments, more staring at the letter. They had their little thirty second intervals at their glancing over. Doug's wooden clock kept ticking. And it strangely got louder and louder, thumping in his ears. He stopped working and tapped table with his finger as time drifted by. He bit his lip as Wheatley sung to himself quietly, his optic occasionally flinging over. Their eyes eventually met and they froze.

They both fumbled and grumbled over the letter, with Wheatley's still-adjusting hands fighting with Doug's to open it. Doug's competence won in the end. The core failed to care much, he was just hustling and very giddy to know what was written.

"Come on, what does it say?" Wheatley said eagerly.

Doug licked his dry lips. He was going to murdered for this, he was sure of it. But his hunch was giving the slight confidence, much to the mans surprise. The hand writing was simple, if not very modern. It didn't have the ancient italic or fancy design but rather a present day look to it. He'd spent far too much time here as he'd gotten used to the way the people wrote that he could barely remember what his own original text.

"It says...Recent Silver-Hand Shipment indicates they're ready to strike at the Companions. Be cautious."

They exchanged strange looks, Wheatley more so. Another hunch built up again. And it certainly wasn't saying anything good.

"Um...uh...what does that mean? Silver-Hand? What Silver-Hand? Sounds like somebodies got a bloody big great metal hand that's gonna swat the living daylights out of the Companions."

Doug groaned and face-palmed. "It's a group, from what I've read. Vicious and brutal...hate Werewolves. Pretty much justified without the proper justifications. Doesn't surprise me that there are supernatural hunters here."

"Ahhhh...now-now that...make's a better story than something as obnoxious and stupid as a giant hand...terrible story that...just terrible." Wheatley complained.

Doug ignored him. But the letter...it concerned him. Upon further reading, the corner of the paper held an unfamiliar marking that didn't help even when he squinted at it's shape. It wasn't complicated, but it was a scribbled diamond with a circle inside of it. On his travels throughout Whiterun he'd seen similar symbols. But not this one. His stomach churned at the thought of it, fingers clenched against his chest. The hunch spoke to him like his Cube used to, except without total confidence this time.

"I think we should take this to the Dragonborn. Now."

* * *

It had started to rain as the sun disappeared over the mountains. Doug rugged up and headed towards Jorrvaskr. This was definitely urgent. He berated Wheatley for withholding this from him, when the Dragonborn could been in grave danger. But he had read up the Silver-Hand. And from the previous looks on the Dragonborns face she held them in deep hatred and disgust. A single mention managed to get her ticked off and rant into a blind rampage. He'd never seen anyone so angry before, well besides her... the Woman from Down Below. Doug figured, if he could take on the Dragonborns anger, then he would able to take on a lot more. Like Wheatley's supposed encounter with Chell. Had she made to Skyrim on her travels? He then remembered Wheatley's story of friendship, betrayal and deep regret. He thought he'd killed her by accident. It brought nothing but sorrow to the core when ever he spoke about it. He made note to himself to have a meaningful conversation once this business was all sorted.

He made it to Jorrvaskr and knocked on the door, eager to see her, but didn't know how she would react to his presence in her workplace. Although, he and Wheatley had been curious what dwelled in such a strange looking building, a warriors palace, that Doug came to think of it as. Every time he'd gone past, or he'd wander over the back to have a quick squizz there was always someone training. Sometimes he'd see the Dragonborn standing with her fellow Companions watching a new recruit train against the targeted dummies by the back wall. A secret society that wasn't really secret. A lot of it reminded him of Aperture, but he didn't understand why.

He knocked again when nobody answered, only to find someone standing before him.

"Vilkas..." Doug muttered. The man looked as gruff as they came, but held an air of superiority in his fancy looking armor with wolf decal. The tall, dark solid man gave him beady stares and crossed arms. Very imposing.

"Yeah what is it?"

Doug swallowed, clearly unnerved by the man. "Um...uh...is your Harbinger there?"

He held a similar position of his eyes like that of the Dragonborn, holding himself in high authority.

"No. She's not...and even if she was, what business do you have with her?" He asked. He had a feeling that Vilkas attitude was pretty much the same, just different accents.

Doug held the letter close. "I just wanted to talk to her as all. I need to give her something."

Vilkas grumbled. You'd think after spending months here that Doug would man up. Unfortunately, that had yet to occur since his failed outburst.

"Something that you want to share with me? I can relay the problem to her once she returns."

Doug looked down at the paper. It concerned the Companions all around. He lifted his head to look at Vilkas, who pinpointed his eyes into Doug with great scrutiny.

"It's a message that needs to be given to her, but...it's a matter of the Companions as well." He confided.

Vilkas crossed his arms. "Well spit it out, I don't have all night."

Doug nodded. "The Silver-Hand. We got a message that they're ready to, strike, at the Companions. When and where we don't know."

He felt shorter once Vilkas body language became more intimidating, making Doug feel like he was shrinking in his sheer presence.

"Where did you get this information?" He asked.

Doug's hands shook as he held the letter up in quick haste. "Here..uhh it had a symbol on it. Have no idea what that symbol is though."

Vilkas grabbed the letter from Doug's hand and whacked the kinks out of it with the back of his hand before screening it. He looked at Doug, before checking out the letter again.

"...We have our sources...not sure if this one can be trusted." Said Vilkas. He handed the letter back to Doug.

"But we've had no such problems dealing with the Silver-Hand lately."

That didn't comfort Doug's stomach at all. There was a slight hardness to his voice that made Doug suspect he was lying. But Doug had to persist.

"Please just...warn the Harbinger then? A little heads up perhaps?" Doug iterated, his voice nearly croaking.

Vilkas hardly moved. He was like a rock hard statue. But there was a slip in his composure. "I'll put the message through."

Doug nodded and smiled. "Ah thanks...that's great."

* * *

Doug knew he should feel at ease. But he couldn't. He sat on edge as he rested on the chair in the lounge as Wheatley was busy practicing his movements. He hadn't even seen the Dragonborn in a while, let alone heard her word in the streets. He knew something was up at Jorrvaskr and they failed to tell him anything. It stirred up a storm in his stomach as he leaned over on his nice red couch he'd made himself. Not as comfy as one would like but he had to make do with what he had.

He'd ignored the banging Wheatley was making and poured all his mental power and attention at the position he was in. He looked at the bumbling bot once and thought of Chell. A question ran rings around him. Why was Chell helping them out? How did she know this information? And why wasn't she here with him and Wheatley sorting this all out like you would normally. It rattled, threatening more headaches. Doug could construct things, no doubt about that. But when figuring out the motives of several individuals was a process he left to his hunches. Then again, he decided that Chell was never really a normal person to begin with and finished with that theory.

He resumed to his original pasture and gave numerous attempts to lay back and relax. It was deathly quiet around this time of night. Everyone had gone to bed, save for the patrolling guards. He'd get another knock on the door for certain, given Wheatley's ruckus. He watched from afar, as arms and legs were bending and slapping all over the place. He'd have to give a thorough tune up in the morning. Now he was just dead tired.

Ten minutes later he removed Wheatley from the walker frame, as they had agreed to keep going ahead with the testing as soon as Doug was feeling more awake. He attached the Sphere to his management rail and let him ride off into his room. Doug meanwhile stored the frame and locked in a cupboard, and finally retired upstairs.

He was sleepy, but ironically, couldn't sleep. His hand rested on his chest, puffy eyes watching it's rhythm. He then looked at the ceiling. This often happened when his brain was too busy with quick and easy bursts of unfiltered chants. He imagined the roof to be more flat, the walls rusty and catwalks everywhere he went. A comfy bed was all that grounded him to the true reality, but otherwise he was back at the facility, running away from the Woman from Down Below.

He looked at his worn hands. Days of work kept him in a well state of mind but as soon as he stopped everything would just fall back into place. He stressed far more when he was alone and idle, like he was the last man on Earth. He ran his spare hand over the rough texture of the dull blue bedsheets, extending his fingers and hearing bones crack underneath. His eyes became wide open despite the heaviness of his eyelids. He worried about finding the perfect method of transportation for Wheatley more than he valued the health of his own body. It was just complicated like that.

He turned to his side, growing anxious and placed his hand beside his head, scrunching his body up and bring his knees closer to his chest. Nope. Didn't work at all. He cursed this abnormal and out of whack sleeping pattern. His body was tired, but his eyes never agreed with it. Then again, his own eyes played their tricks, a symbol of his condition. He heaved a big sigh, desperate sigh. Luckily, his eyes started to ache as he closed his lids, finally drifting off into an awkward sleep as he listened to the rain hitting the roof.

* * *

The next day he made headed over to the Inn to have a chat with Lydia. They discussed more recent kidnappings that were popping up in all holds, including Whiterun. The housecarl told Doug of her temporal fears that her Thane was one of them, but held a fake brave face and was fooling herself to believe that her Thane was a very, very busy woman. When asked of his opinion, Doug had no choice to agree. He kept convincing himself that the Dragonborn should be the least of his worries.

They shared breakfast together and joined in with some of the early morning workers. Doug pinpointed and wrote down several more commissions. There were even those that had traveled from the other cities asking for various tools, such as drills and instruments used for new methods of welding and melting down metals. He was given the coins, displayed a happy smile and declared he had more to do, heading off back home afterwards.

The day drifted by unknowingly. Wheatley was getting...slightly better when walking in the ATLAS frame. Doug tinkered non-stop, avoiding lunch as he carved the drills out. He stopped around two o'clock, near exhausted, working from nine am that morning. He sat on his couch and continued to scribble drawings, his original true passion.

He poured out his thoughts as they continue to translate into lines on paper that eventually took shape. Another picture of the Dragonborn in a noble pose, before he realized he had filled an entire book filled with the Dragonborns heroism. This...never made sense to him. She was absolutely mental, brash and very manipulative, that Wheatley had to point out several times. But she was also very unpredictable, which made Doug's curious notion of her quite notable. He closed the book and shoved it underneath the coffee table. God knows what Wheatley would do if he found out about it. He'd head to the general store to purchase another blank page book and scurry back to Gildekin to continue. This time he'd reminisced Aperture and decided that if he inserted his memories inside the book they could last a lot longer than he would exist. Throughout the times he'd drawn on the test chamber walls he prayed that they would at least tell a story to someone who could hardly understand the drastics of the situation they were in.

Later that night he had his dinner and stared at his plate. Wheatley was pretending to eat with a fork and spoon, as Doug had suggested he try and get his dexterity operating properly. Chicken breasts with potato, peas, carrots and corn, all cooked up nicely. Doug laughed under his breath as Wheatley bemoaned the fact that he didn't have a sense of taste. It was entertainment, for another dull evening.

A knock on his door raised his head and had wondered who would visit them at this time of night.

He asked Wheatley to go answer it, just to get used to moving his legs. The core walked over to the front entrance and opened the door. No one was there. He poked his head out, looked left and right. He even squinted. Nope. A prank from one of the local boys. There were a funny lot, but sometimes it would get annoying. Wheatley shrugged his shoulder pads and popped back inside and closed the door. He turned around to go back to the dining room, only to bump into someone wearing brown clothing and within that instant glance in their eyes, a quick retrieval of that image reappeared in his mind.

"Ahh! It's...oh I almost forgot...we have to be silent...Douggy's here though and he's very excited to see you...I told em you were here and-"

The woman lowered her hood as she stared at Wheatley. She looked around the front entrance area and at the stares behind her. Then glimpsed into the dining room where Doug had been eating. She put her finger to her lips again, telling Wheatley to be quiet, as to not arouse suspicion from Doug. Wheatley failed to envision the seriousness on her face.

He nodded compliantly anyway as she grabbed his hand and took him to the lounge room. She obviously wanted to get him away from Doug, who was still eating his dinner and was now reading a book. Chell closed the door to the lounge room and ushered the dumbfounded core to sit down. He did so with a stern nod as Chell sat on the couch opposite his, by the fire.

She sat down and leaned over. Wheatley waited for her to say something, even though she wouldn't. Instead, she pulled out a piece of paper.

"What's this?" He asked.

Chell tapped the paper. Wheatley squinted his shutters at it, trying to read.

"Sightings of missing persons have been noted at Fort Mistwatch." He read. He looked Chell who motioned him with a nod to keep going.

"Silver-Hand have captured at least three Nord males, two Breton males, one Dumner female and one Nord female. All have been compared to the missing persons."

Wheatley was unconsciously getting the proper hold on the robot body frame, like he had been in it all his life. He didn't realize this of course and acted as he did. "Doug mentioned these recent kidnappings...and we read the letter...I-I know...I know we shouldn't have done it...we were just so darn curious and would you have it that I completely forgot about the letter...bloody mind was off with the fairies..."

Chell pursed her lips and looked down. This wasn't good.

"What? Oh love please don't look like that. I-I don't want you to look like that, really. If it's something I've-I've done...I'm sorry. Again...for everything...I cannot...I cannot seem to apologize any further. You haven't forgiven me. Okay...THAT...I understand...could we just pass through that, and, get on with the program."

She stood up from the couch, overlooking the sphere in his babbling state. He looked so needy as she stared into his optic. It was obvious that he didn't want her to go. He tried so hard as she grabbed hold of her pants that she froze as she attempted to walk away. She quickly snapped out of it and pointed to the letter and then pointing in the direction of the dining room. It baffled Wheatley on what was signaling. He looked at the letter, then back up. Again...she was gone.

Wheatley bolted into the dining room in such short haste, accidentally flipping the table. Doug was gone too, scaring the hell out of the core.

"Douggy! Douggy!" He cried in such desperation.

Doug popped out from another door. From the sound of gushing, he'd only been in the kitchen washing the dishes.

"Who was at the door?" Doug asked. Washing the dishes often calmed Doug, for some unexplained reason, so he appeared quite relaxed. Wheatley was distressed however, so he'd hoped it was nothing too serious.

"Chell! It was her again! She came into the house...and I tried to stop her! I wanted her to stay where she as cause-cause I told her you wanted to see her! She did! But...she didn't. Again...she left in quite a hurry. I kept forgetting she was a real good ninja."

Doug sat Wheatley back down on the chair as the arms wailed out of control. He popped out of the frame and hooked him to the management rail. Wheatley went on rambling as Doug failed to get him back on track. In the end he flicked his side, forcing the sphere to sit straight. The human had to get a few things straightened first.

"Okay...first things first. Next time you see Chell, call me." He started in his rare time rationalism.

"Secondly, what did she say this time?"

Wheatley cleared his hand. "Uh yes...of course. Um...in that little letter then, should be in the frames hand."

Another letter from Chell so soon. It was possible this could become a occurrence, Doug thought. He picked the letter out and read it thoroughly. Kidnappings. Like Lydia had mentioned. Further down it said it was at Mistwatch, a large Fort to the east. Doug got up and checked out the entire map of Skyrim. It wasn't written on there. He plucked his brain for ideas as he thought hard.

"So...what are we going to do?" Wheatley asked. "Do you think that letter means something?"

Of course it did. But the odd thing about it was Chell had given it to them, instead of anyone in the Companions or one of the higher ups. It was possible that Chell still, somehow, trusted Wheatley, given Wheatley's previous adventure, and needed someone to get her voiceless point across. The corner of the letter had the same mark as the first one did. He recalled Vilkas saying that the source wasn't as reliable as the ones they usually have. Doug became wary and suspicious of the man. In fact, his general bias against the Companions was beginning to change. They had been acting odd in the last times Doug had came across any of them and they becoming more and more secretive. Why, though, was anyone's guess. Doug wasn't satisfied with being left hanging, hungry for answers.

* * *

He went to Breezehome, seeing if Lydia was home. The Housecarl was reading a book in her room, as usual, looking like she had nary a care in the world. This time, Doug had serious intention. The entire ordeal was getting ridiculous as his gut was telling him the Dragonborns behaviour was somehow linked.

He'd asked her if she ever kept a diary or anything. She did, but it was no longer kept inside Breezehome. She gave the suggestion about visiting Jorrvaskr. And with that, he did.

It was late and Doug felt he was out of his mind doing this. His obsession with the Dragonborn was an unusual case that he never really sorted out within himself. Genuine concern was one, but he knew something else clouded his better judgement over it. If anything, he blamed his hunch for making him so god damned worried. Normally, he would know better but this. Totally out of his mind.

In all of Doug's experience, he was completely aware of what his mind was capable of. It either helped or hindered, but throughout the years he was able to determine what voice to listen to and what voice to ignore. Mentally, he still had a lot to deal with. So much emotional baggage that hadn't been picked up and messages still left unchecked. He'd shoved them into the back and went on over time forgetting about them. Skyrim had opened up a lot more than needed, but begged him to answer misplaced questions. Especially about himself.

In all honesty, he didn't want to do it. Not at all. But it wouldn't have been the first time he had to do something he didn't like. If anything, he was the most well-informed despite the lack of information on his part. As a Scientist, a well motivated mind was a ticket to be invited into the unknown. Check this, check that. Test those, test these. It was all about the hypothesis first, then the application and then results and evaluation. It could be applied to every single thing he'd ever done. Or at least, the other scientists. Doug was more of a less on the safety and precaution side of self-requirements. Taking one last hypothesis, he decided to take action on the application stage.

He was lucky it was night as he snuck around to the back of Jorrvaskr. He whirled his head around, extremely cautious of any Companion who was still around. He bit his lip as he stayed in the darkness, keeping his head low. The Companions were strong, competent individuals who would have slain many an intruder before. His heartbeat quickened, before he remembered a spell that the Dragonborn had taught him.

Raising his hands into the air, with a quick flick of his fingers, Doug successfully cast the Muffle spell. He wasn't entirely convinced that he could do this himself. It was one of those times he could really, use the Cube's advice, despite the fact that the cube was an extension of his subconscious. But at least he could work things out properly, make plans and so forth. It'd worked in the past. Briefly...if not, being too successful...

He shuffled that out quickly as he carefully and agonizingly opened the door a tiny smidget and slid himself in. He had no time to examine the room once he got inside, instead, looking for somewhere to hide for the moment. There was a nearby table that he slide under, with a chair that shielded him decently from view, allowing him to analyze interior properly. In the middle of the lowered floor was a horseshoe shape made of tables, with clean silverware and candles. He could see that the walls were covered in obnoxious, self-absorbed achievements, with weapon-racks of shields and various weaponry. Four pillars held the place up as the tables were set near an open fire. There weren't many people about. A single old lady was left sweeping the floorboards. Over in the distance he could see a wooden rail and a banister. He checked that the old lady wasn't looking as he hustled himself over, surprising that he didn't tumble under his own feet. Once there, he saw a set of stairs leading down to a set of doors.

Once down there, he snuck into a long hallway that had sat underneath the mead hall. It looked like a Knights living quarters, only with more of aggressive feel. His eyes, aching as they kept their vigilance, darting from side to side as he passed other hallways and more doors. Doug wasn't entirely sure where this diary was or why he was even looking for it. His hallucinations started to flare up, seeing a ghostly looking wolf standing in front of him. It's eyes were dull and lifeless, as it turned around and ran to the other side of the the hallway, disappearing into another set of doors. Doug gulped as he continued walked on his tippy toes, desperate not to be seen as a sweat drop rolled down his forehead. His heart began to beat faster as he heard a door creak open. There was a another hall way crossing up ahead as he could see a Companion walk out from it. He dashed into the first hallway and silenced his breath, risking agony over getting caught. He briefly caught a glimpse of an Orc walking passed. The doors to the stairs made noise, convincing Doug he'd left out of sight. Sighing with relief, Doug crept to the very back room.

He squinted his eyes shut and again, bit his lip as he pushed the door and escaped inside. Another room. Judging from the numerous desks, shelves and boxes, it looked like a study. It was a mess. A Dragonborns mess. Papers and books were left open and lying everywhere, purple flower petals were scattered for some reason as Doug knelt down and picked one of the papers up.

It looked like a map of sorts, with a scribbled title, Fort Greymoor on top. It looked a crudely made drawing of the place, rooms and lines. Upon closer inspection, it was a plan to invade the place. He dropped the paper as his eyes were drawn to yet another set of doors. Standing up, he could detect the ghostly wolf inside.

He had no fear of being cautious whilst opening this particular doors. He brushed against them as they flung. Another messy room with a great big bed, with more drawers and shelves. Candles were lit, making Doug wonder why would you bother with lighting the candles if no one was here. He pushed the thought away and scoured the room for any clue.

He rummaged through many drawers, finding nothing in particular. Judging by the status of the mess, anything that was in the drawers was on the floor. No real surprise there. He kept digging, until he found a red leather book with a gold outline. He turned to the first page, where there was a scribbled drawing of the dragon symbol in front of it, followed by a Wolf surrounding it. He could see the ghostly wolf in the corner of the room, sitting down and staring at Doug. It's intent was clear. He wanted Doug to search through the book.

Flipping through it's pages, he deduced that from the dates that this was definitely her diary. The first few pages described her first ventures as Harbinger and, much to Doug's immediate suspicion, her attraction to Farkas. Many of the entries had described her struggle to deal with the attraction whilst dealing with Companion and Circle matters. First she worried about what Vilkas would do, but then seemed to prevent herself from taking the issue further, accepting the fact she had no idea how to deal with it. It explained why she was walking around with a man, and when they parted ways, she either smiled and walked off, or grumbled to herself. Doug had witnessed that many times.

He read the date that he and her met. Claimed he was an odd, weak coward man that she found interesting. Looking further indicated she actually enjoyed his company and hated to admit it that she felt like he had become more than just some ally she'd found on top of a tower that day. It made Doug smile. The Dragonborn never really called anyone her friend. Hated to admit that too.

Down the track, more entries mentioned her lack of sleep. Another discovery. She hadn't dreamed in forever and, judging from her descriptions, actually missed it. Another admission applied one dream out of all the dreamless sleeps about Draugr protecting something. More reading indicated that this dream was in fact about finding Wheatley, much to her shock. Like with Doug himself, she found the Core entertaining. At least, better than that irritating meteor that kept talking about Space.

One thing about these that perplexed Doug was that she vented out her more obscure feelings, even though she wrote about her lack of understanding in those topics. That's what, at least, Doug was getting from her. She had horrid grammar but he got the jist of it at least. Some seemed rushed as the handwriting became more erratic as the dates became more recent.

It was then he came across her final entry. Doug sat on the side of her ruffled bed and read it to himself in a low tone...imagining her fortified tone on top...

* * *

_"We're getting closer now. Farkas and I raided Fort Greymoor together. It took us a while, but we finally managed to get some proper peace and quiet. You know what annoys me the most? It's that despite both of us getting closer, I'm beginning to feel another..stupid, pointless thing. You know what? It's not Farkas. Don't get me wrong Farkas is a great man. Strong and kind. I've said many times before that's the reason why I like the guy. But...every time I tell him, the wrong words pour out of my mouth, or what dialect that Doug dude seems to call it, orifice. Actually, that's a funny word. It has the word face in it. Gods damn it Doug stop corrupting me! It's getting irritating! To be honest, he's not a bad person. He's nice enough that it's a shame that I can't bring him with me. He's amusing at least and deserves all the praise...I mean, flushing toilets? This town has never felt cleaner! Jarl, or one of the great Gods, give this man a reward. People love it!_

_I was so damn close to tell Farkas...so so so close. But I failed. By the Gods I had failed. I was going to put on my Amulet of Mara and everything! You know why I failed? He vanished into thin air! So here we were, finished our raid of the bandits encampment and I had planned to tell Farkas after he'd opened the chest to find the Bandits loot, I turn to put on the Amulet and then surprise him with the proposal, like, you know, tradition in Skyrim n' all, and...he's gone. I looked everywhere. I didn't freak out. Gods no. Only Milk Drinkers freak out. So, like a big girl I went back to the chest and pulled out the loot._

_It was a stinking book. A rotten book. What was so freaking important about a stupid thing? A waste of resources and my future husband. I swear of there was a damned Daedra in that fort I'm going to hunt them down and consume their entrail and I don't give two septims to the fact that that just sounded like something from the Dark Brotherhood._

_I told Vilkas the bad news. He didn't take it too well. He shut himself off and refused to talk to me. How freakin' unprofessional. It wasn't my fault! But...he wouldn't have any of it. As Harbinger, it hurts to have no one listen to you. Then again, I was never in any position of power to begin with._

_I'd almost forgotten about the book too. I had a quick read and learned that the Silver-Hand were hiring bandits to raid Dwemer ruins and look for numerous artifacts. They'd just about found something and had drawn down the object in the book itself. No one knew what it was. It was...like, a semi-circly shaped thingy, it was smooth and white with some kind of odd looking horn with a small ball at the end of it. It glowed too. It looked too different to be either Dwemer or even Daedric. But they were convinced it was Dwemer. Didn't make too much of a difference to me. The Silver-Hand were clearly up to no good. And what ever that thing did I feel it may tell me more about how Farkas went missing. If I find that artifact in there, might get Doug to look at it. Don't want to tread on a good citizen but I laid a claim on that coward a long time ago, so I should be first priority for him.  
_

_All of this important stuff lay at Fort Mistwatch. No one will bother listening to the Harbingers advice. Meh...don't need them anyway. I'm the Dragonborn. I do most quests myself anyway. So here I am, writing this down. Going to prepare myself for the Silver-Hand to get Farkas back at all costs. Then maybe I could get the respect I need as Harbinger...and maybe they will start heading my advice again."_

* * *

There is that name again. Mistwatch. The Dragonborn had been avoiding Doug to find out this and was most likely sitting in that very room the entire time, planning her way to save Farkas. If he'd known he would have been a bit more sensitive. However, Doug grew accustomed to the fact that the Dragonborn was being deliberately evasive, but it did not stop him from his inherent circling around the campfire with her in mind. He looked up on the wall beside the bed side drawer and saw a map of Skyrim. It had been traced on and scribbled on with ink, with a small dot, south east of their location of Whiterun.

In tiny letters, it had. "Mistwatch."

Doug stood up tall, with now the location of the fort readily tucked in his memory. He tip toed again through the mess,recast muffle and stealthily left the premises to prepare a trip.


	10. Science and Werewolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Adventures of Doug, Wheatley and Lydia continue as they try and find the Dragonborn.

 

It was a jump into the deep end. A wild, suicidal rambunctious mission that would set any normal person straight about their misbehaving. It was mental, stupid, not to mention, a little out of character. The Dragonborn's life was at stake. That's all that mattered. No matter what his fears were.

He owed her. He owed her despite her violent personality because she was kind on the inside, in her own unique way. Her Diary was a dip into into her solitary spirit. She hid a true spirit within, even from herself. There was trouble about those non-admissions that Doug proposed it was to avoid exploiting her weaknesses. In a strange way, it was cute. Now that was hard for Doug himself to accumulate from his subconscious opinion. An attachment not unlike an overprotective mother with her son, he'd couldn't thank her enough.

There had been an iffiness that occurred due to her own admissions, saying that she had been secretly training him harder than he'd noticed. He should have seen it coming, after what he saw what she was capable of with gigantic fire-breathing (and some ice-breathers that floated around apparently) flying reptiles and the way she slew the Draugr.

He went over the plans in his head, over and over again as he paced back and forth in the lounge, muttering about variables, percentages of survival and so forth. He forced his hand to his drawing book, writing fleshed out equations. His zany mind was running overtime mapping out ways to infiltrate Mistwatch. Random, inaudible thoughts popped by, dragging his pencil over needed and unintended scribbles. Scrunches of paper were left on the floor around him as he'd ripped them out of the book when none of the equations made any sense, or made sense in a way even he couldn't work out. He rubbed his legs, feeling the roughness of his brown leather pants that were being help up with suspenders, dirty white long sleeve top filthy from his work and thick boots that warmed his toes.

Comparing the rescue to Chell, this was much more difficult. He knew the works of the facility like the back of his hand. But this was a reality that was grounded on it's own mystic mytholicism. No Science, no back up plans. You fail the tests and you're granted a one way ticket to Android Hell. He was so used to firing off plans and details for technical aspects but there was nothing technical about this. Mistwatch was a well fortified place. You would have to be a very skilled warrior just to get through the front guards. Doug was just a misplaced scientist in an uninventive world. He could have gone back to the College of Winterhold to find a way back home, but he was compelled to stay where he was in Whiterun. He felt safer in the walls than he did out there with nothing but his instincts to survive. And now that no longer helped.

He grunted and slammed the wall, cursing his speeding brain for failing him. If the Cube was here, she'd tell him what to do. She always knew what to do. He rested his aching forehead on his arm that leaned against the wall and concentrated on breathing his troubles away. Variables. Far too many variables. He threw the book away and dropped to the floor.

He heard footsteps walking towards him, clicking on the floorboards. High heels, he gathered, as he sat on the floor, his eyes fixated on the wall. A chill in the air made Doug shiver, goosebumps rising on his skin.

"Your doubts aren't going to save her any faster." Said a soft, womanly voice.

Doug smirked. "I'm not a hero."

He heard a laugh. "Heroes die." She said.

Doug refused to move where he was, instead he let the world move around him. The wall became sprawled and covered with his drawings of Dragons, Dragonborns, Cores, Turrets, Equations, Draugr and many other things he had seen, in his own harshly scribbled artwork. Soon the entire lounge room was covered with them, isolating Doug into his own ushered reality.

" _What are you going to do about it?_ "

A single sentence. Perfect description.

Doug lay limp on the ground, watching his paintings float by.

"This isn't like the Master AI. Or reprogramming the main grid. I stayed in the shadows, playing with instruments behind the scenes, within the walls."

They walked closer, more clicking. The walls dripped with white paint, transforming into the dreaded panels. Even though absolutely none of them complied with logic, nor what actually happened at Aperture. He was too tired to argue about it though, settling into a stable madness.

" _Staying in the shadows, playing with instruments._ " They repeated.

Doug's eyes flung upwards in a strained movement. "Within the walls?"

Another chuckle. Nope. He still had no clue. One too many variables.

" _You can't hack your way into these types of walls...certainly not the regular way..._ "

The panels suddenly dropped away, revealing dark stone walls underneath them. It got colder, as the wind whistled around him, sounding like high pitched screams. Chiseled.

"But I can still...stay...within the darkness." Doug muttered, eyes widening with the great idea that was growing.

" _Yes._ " They applied with the tone of approval, monotoned for the right answer.

"Playing with instruments. Tools of the trade. I..."

He spun around to look behind him. All he saw was a two couches behind him beside a fireplace and the stillness within his own home, with the temperature returning to normal. He sat up, hunched over and crossed his legs. He looked over to his book and stared at it for a while. Yes. The Instruments.

He grabbed his book and started messily scribbling down what he had on him. First off was spells. The Spells he had been taught at the College. If there was anything he was good at, it was using his own special magic, tinkering and using his hands. He was writing down at such a quick pace as his tongue was hanging out of his mouth, devoting his attention to a formula he could apply and that he only understood.

Of course, there were the negative predictions that he could die. He'd been shot at by a turret before, but whom ever he was versing would most likely bear a melee weapon. He worked out the likelihood of someone having a bow and arrow, which seemed to the prime way of the projected weaponry. Thank goodness that no one had invented guns or bullets. Or else nobody would be left alive, having lived with Nords long enough to predict their actions in battle.

Further thinking down the track made Doug believe that he was more an observer than with one who would normally take action. By allowing himself to see and hear the way people moved, he'd normally apply to his artwork, as well their train of thought. The Nords were normally hard hitters, jumping at the chance to fight given their level of hostility. The Silver-Hand were hostile to the Companions for a reason he couldn't fathom, but nonetheless he feared that people knew his connection to the Dragonborn and that rumors spread far in Skyrim and into tender ears that bother to compile it and have ignored all doubt that they were together. Doug gasped.

"Of course..." He muttered to himself in such a garbled manner that sentences were so rapidly spurting out of his mouth. "She disconnected herself from me...because she wanted to protect me...she had a feeling this would happen...what if I'm still in danger?"

He heard Wheatley's nonrhythmic footsteps coming down the stairs. He had his back turned to the walking core, who had a bag slapped on his back. He came into the room, not batting a shutter that Doug was sitting on the floor. Doug himself didn't realize he'd been doing that the past few days.

"Um...I'm just...heading to the Blacksmiths...you know, repairing the old arm..." Said Wheatley, who was lying through his speakers.

Doug stood up from where he was and turned to the sphere with a cocked eyebrow. "Your misleading is showing."

Wheatley widened his optic as he checked himself all over, propping his legs up to look at his feet, before falling over, breaking what it was it was he was carrying, sending white bits everywhere.

"Oh bollocks!" He grunted, getting up and picking the pieces up.

"Now I have to start all OVER again..."

Doug gave a comforting smile and walked over to kneel down and pick the broken parts up. Wheatley was bad at keeping secrets. Doug tested this out when telling him something wasn't true, and in the end the entire department found out about how Apples were from outer space. It reminded Doug of when Wheatley himself was first activated, when each person was given their individual cores. He'd pulled him out of the box and turned the switch. The English instructions were missing for some reason, so Doug tried to read the side with the Spanish ones. He couldn't understand any of it, not really a language fanatic. It was mostly frowned upon, yet Aperture insisted on it, since there were quite a few works with English as a second langauge. He had a friend in college that told him a Spanish word though. Manzana, which meant Apple, because it sounded quite perculiar, odd at least. Though Doug refused to admit or divulge his apparent hazy interests back in those days. Like a childs first word, hearing Wheatley talk for the first time was amazing. His own, artificial intelligence, a friend, a son...well, maybe not going that far.

After cleaning up, Doug dusted his hands. Wheatley's body language indicated that he was quite upset over breaking what ever it was. Most likely the statue. He sat down, depressed as he fiddled with a broken part with his robotic fingers.

"I was...I was making a sculpture of Chell." Wheatley admitted, his optic as low as his voice.

Doug rested his hand on Wheatley's shoulder-pad and stared at him.

"Why would you make one when you have the real one hanging around?" Doug asked.

Wheatley lifted his optic to glimpse into Doug's eyes for the moment, before dropping it again.

"The real one...the real Chell...doesn't want this. She doesn't. No. I think what she really needs is-is that someone she can depend on. And I-I believe she has. Where ever she is, she's doing it. And she does it well."

Doug pursed his lips. "Sounds like her. She would have said...no, well, at least shown you that she forgives you. You told me your story. If you had told her a proper explanation, she would most definitely understand."

Wheatley upped his optic. "You think?"

Doug smiled. When he smiled, the room lit up. "I'm positive. I must admit and I have to tell you, I had no awareness that the Chassis did that. I had no part in the making of her so logically..."

Wheatley got up. "No-no don't tell me. I get it. I was there too you know. You're an honest guy Douggy. Never ever forget that."

Doug gave a playful punch to the core before prying the broken piece from his android appendages. He thought what Wheatley would do if Doug couldn't return from his mentally prepared plan to rescue the Dragonborn, having taking many self-made propositions, then Wheatley would have no where to go. But Doug's plan involved not dying, at least if everything went smoothly. An unwarranted addition could break the entire point of calibrating it. He thought about it more, however as he rubbed his chin. Even if the plan included not dying, they would need back up if the plan failed and somehow they ended up actually dead or worse, imprisoned.

Doug had installed a tiny Soul Gem into Wheatley's frame, allowing some small portion to access the magicka in the air. Wheatley could be able to use spells, but lacked the coordination and control. Not to mention no one had actually taught him to use any spells. Doug could admit that it was his fault. In truth, he never had the foresight to even see Wheatley in battle. With an actual weapon of course, not a colossal underground city of death traps.

He couldn't trust Wheatley with a sword in that matter. So no swords or spells for that matter. He'd hate to tell the core that he was going to be useless, because he was so predictable at being unpredictable. He could only instruct the bot to do what he could. Even then...

"Thought up of somethin' yet?" Wheatley inquired.

"Getting there." Doug replied. "No idea if it's going to work though. Don't have the technology to simulate outcomes."

Wheatley nodded. "Ah yes forgot about that. No computers or their trusty monitors to bother with, sorry to say."

"No graphics either." Doug continued, sitting down on the stairs.

"Ahh 'cause that was your _specialty_! Yeah! I-I remember that! I had a really good time making pictures with you. That was until, they-they gave me that horrible, worst kind of job."

Doug couldn't help but tug a smile. "Like I said, that wasn't my fault."

Wheatley shook his head. "No-no...I wasn't-I wasn't blaming you. I got a lot of ideas for your pretty pictures while I was down there. Shame I couldn't send them to you. They were really good."

His smile grew. If anything, if it was really good with Wheatley, they were most likely really bad. But he gave him something for his positive attitude.

Doug took a deep breath. They couldn't ignore this any longer, as much as Doug wanted to stay in the hems of Whiteruns safety, they had a real job to do. He declared himself to get ready for real this time.

* * *

He'd already gone up, got changed, got his gears and was about to head off into the unknown. He'd gotten a map, but it was his first time going out alone without the Dragonborn's protection. But if he had enough determination like Chell did, he would get through. His heart raced a little, jumping into the deep end without any floaties, which was a horrible comparison brought on by Wheatley, who trailed behind, barely able to silence the pressing sounds of his frames hydraulics. Doug would have to deal with that another time. Otherwise they would have press on dozens of potential outcomes if Wheatley never listened to him. He'd put the fear into him despite the fact Wheatley was made of sterner stuff, the Aperture-grade still made him almost invulnerable. The Sphere was, anyway. Unfortunately Doug had no such access to the stuff. All he had was anything local he could purchase from the local blacksmith. And Doug himself was fragile, but dependent on his resourcefulness to get the job done anyway he could. The problem was that while he could start it, he had problem finishing it. Mainly because the tasks were something out of his comprehension. He'd panic in such a quick rush there would be a slamming body on the floor and his eyes up to whimsical heaven in obstructing stress. They rushed to the front gates in quick haste, only to be confronted by the shade of Lydia. Doug felt bad as she stood there with her arms crossed, a small brown satchel hanging out of her fist.

"Where do you think you're going?" She asked.

Doug tugged at his sleeve as Wheatley hid behind him, rested his hands on Doug's left arm and poking his head out. It was the inevitable obvious question that he should have prepared for.

"We have a lead on the Dragonborns location." Doug confirmed, not bothering to lie.

"Yup...so please step aside, whilst we uh...go get that lead." Wheatley continued.

Lydia withdrew her sword and looked at it. "It has to do with my Thane. You're not going without me."

Doug lifted his eyebrows in surprise and looked at Wheatley. Lydia was her Housecarl after all, dedicated to protecting her Thane. Socially, there wasn't any weaseling out of this one.

"Besides, she declared you her property a long time ago. So, as per my oath, I have to guard you both my life." She said with a genuine grin.

* * *

It wasn't a bad thing, Doug decided. They'd left Whiterun before they knew it. At least they solved the problem if something went awry in his encrypted schemes. Doug could hardly wield a blade let alone a gun in his hand in the past. It was like wielding death that could strike unintended, deciding the fate of another with percentages and factors, a termination where the only code was ones emotions and rational thoughts. He'd pondered and contemplated about it. Wheatley was the same. He swallowed hard as they headed to the Stables and borrowed a horse.

In the darkness of the night, as Lydia rode hard, with Doug and Wheatley bracing themselves as the rock hard determinative nature of a Nordic woman ran laps in general thoughts. He'd come to accept them as naturally stubborn, if witnessing a widowed woman outright rejecting one of the bards by punching him in the face counts as stubbornly brutal. Still...

He could barely keep his arms around Lydia as gave the horse a hard time, trekking down the stone paths on the eastern board, seeing trees, hills and more mountains. Doug found it interesting that no matter where you were in Skyrim, somehow High Hrothgar kept watch on the entire province like a hawk...or a bloody big Dragon. The wind brushed against his cheek, goosebumps rising on his skin. He'd taken on his blue robes with the Elven-Grade gauntlets and boots, still remembering the time the Dragonborn had retrieved them for him. Wheatley's grip was firm, no doubt that the frame didn't have the properly technology for nerves, only clinging on to the core with nuts and bolts. It would take Doug a bit longer to develop a few more upgrades for it, knowing that Skyrim itself didn't exactly help the situation, given it's own medieval state of progress.

The night became clear as Doug looked up at the stars. There was one night back at the College of Winterhold where he and the Dragonborn looked at them. Doug was no astrologist but had fond memories of the Space Program when he was a child, always sending letters to NASA for some kiddish reasons other then being a fanatic. It was a phase of course, but he never lost his passion for science. The stars themselves, however, were nothing like the ones at home. The constellations were all out, making Doug wonder where abouts on Earth he was. But DB had pointed out several of them, making note that they were integral to Skyrim's culture, as well as Tamriels. It was then she mentioned that the stars determined the future from your birth. From which you were born under, you were destined to become. When asked about when she was born, the Dragonborn confirmed she couldn't remember her date of birth.

She would often refrain from talking about her past. Other than her parents were murdered of course. It made sense, considering all records would have been destroyed if they existed. And with no witnesses, well. She had told him she was busy making her own destiny if she couldn't understand her own. A breath of fresh air from the common britches of society.

Doug watched the trees blur past as the came closer to Mistwatch. Unsure what was about to occur, he was adamant that he'd made himself and Wheatley take the safest option they could. But with Lydia in tow, they were more than happy to let her take front. Doug could heal and Wheatley..Wheatley could at least try to be quiet if Doug doesn't shout down his internal speakers first. But he could prove useful in ways that Doug couldn't fathom. Lydia would most likely being to place it in anyway.

* * *

They'd reached Mistwatch which hung on the side of a mountain, with a least four seeable watch towers, and the tallest at the back. Lydia parked the horse a bit far back and nestled herself with the others behind a pine tree, looking up at the lit up windows. Scanning the Fort, two men, carrying unusual weapons patrolled the entrance. Wheatley persistently cowered behind Doug, much to the mans dismay.

"What are those things they're carrying? They're very odd. Nothing I've seen the others having." Wheatley commented, zooming in and narrowing in his optic.

Lydia squinted. "I don't know. Most bandits use swords or warhammers...and if they're parked high enough, bows and arrows."

Doug shuffled closer. The objects were long and white with black rings. They looked remarkably like guns. It was too dark to see. His eyes then wandered to their eyes, which had a red glow to them. It instilled a sense of dread to his stomach. They reminded him of...

"Turrets..." He muttered.

Lydia looked at Doug strangely. "Turrets?"

Wheatley and Doug exchanged glances. But turrets didn't look human. They were half the height, white, shot bullets and had cutesy voices. Not these, tall, intimidating creatures. It was the eyes that gave them away.

"Maybe they're... _maybe they're androids_." Wheatley whispered, demonstrating his point with various hand gestures. Doug was surprised he was getting a hang of that.

"There were hundreds of androids...thousands even...lethal, _very_ lethal."

Lydia browed. "What's an android? What are you two even talking about?"

Doug sighed. He knew Lydia wouldn't understand it. He would explain the concepts entirely, but they simply didn't have the time. He pointed towards the patrolmen.

"We believe they are. They are our enemy." He mentioned, not realizing he too, was using many hand gestures in a subtle frantic state. "They can't be reasoned with. Their loyalty is unbreakable. So, we just destroy them basically."

Lydia nodded. Doug hoped that would be the only they would ever talk about it. But she then looked annoyed.

"So they're a threat. Okay. But what about those weapons? We have no idea what they do. I'm thinking they're a type of staff? So they might use magic." Lydia theorized.

Doug shook his head. "No, they're highly hazardous. Like your bow, but they're fired a lot faster, a lot harder..."

Wheatley bumped his big core in. "Not to mention, they make you a lot _deader_."

Lydia nodded and bit her lip. "Well I'll be..." She pursed her lips, then looked sternly at them both. From the look on her face she was hard and deep in thinking.

"Right, Wheatley, I want you to distract them while me and Doug strike them from behind."

Nords seemed to be quick thinkers...most of the time if they weren't raging or under the influence. He was grateful Lydia was tactical rather than striking head on. Wheatley started shaking with confusion, not getting the gist of what she meant.

"What? Are you mad? I'll get shot at! So you'll...you'll just use me as your target saying, 'Hello! Wheatley here! Look at me and not at those guys _sneaking_ behind you just about now."

Doug rolled his eyes at the core. "You won't die from it. You're more armored than any of us... the worst you'll get is a ding on your plates."

Wheatley could see them both looking down at him. "Oh are we playing state the obvious? Cause I knew that...I knew that. Quite smart of me to um...distract them, quite nicely...it _might_ hurt though."

Lydia moved out of the way, keeping to a crouch underneath the other side of the tree, dragging Doug with her. She motioned Wheatley to quietly run across to the other side, forcing her index to her lips. The core got that, surprisingly and tip toed his way to opposite tree. His optic wandered from the supposed androids then back to seeing any facial cues from Lydia.

Before he met Chell, he'd always have trouble reading faces, even when he was working with Doug. She'd always kept that staunch, dull expression. But never, not once had he seen her full-blown happy, sad or angry. He hadn't noticed it before. Lydia and Doug always had those detailed face alterations. And the Dragonborns who had gone from extreme to extreme. Sleeping humans always had that dopey look that Wheatley thought was stupid. Some of the more awake ones had odd wrinkles that appeared that fitted in well with each emotional state. All he knew was to read them and react appropriately. Or so his programming says.

Lydia's current face was deathly still, save for her eyes. Wheatley knelt down, mumbling to himself how this was probably a bad idea. He'd only, very slowly, gotten used to the concept of arms and legs. They were useful yes, but he couldn't see very high. In fact, the entire frame was dramatically differently looking than the average human, only seeing the ATLAS Sketches when he'd found them in the data files back at Aperture. He stopped streaming through his memories when they hit the wall of the Chassis, and pulled himself back to reality.

Lydia held out three fingers. In a strange rhythm and her mouth, she pulled down one finger at a time. When the third disappeared she pointed to the androids. With a slight delay, Wheatley came out of his hiding position and flung himself at the pair.

" **ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!** "

He screamed at them, confusing them both as they positioned themselves and nestled their guns closer to their heads and aimed at the flailing optic widened as he felt the straight, red light markers run past it, his entire frame quivering as he started running in the opposite direction. He pulled his arm in front of him as he heard gun fire bouncing off the trees as he fled into the thick pine forest. His vision showed him a nearby boulder, forcing him to dive behind and pull his hands over his sphere, shaking unknowingly with fear.

* * *

"Wheatley?"

He pulled his head out and looked around. The gunfire had stopped. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, even looking through his files he believed he had put himself in a type of power save mode. That was Doug's voice he recognized as Wheatley rolled his sphere around. He pressed his hands on the side of the boulder and peaked out from the side. He could see Doug and Lydia at the front entrance to fort, waving for him to come over. He zoomed in on the two bodies that laid on the ground, motionless. The red glow from their eyes had faded, as their guns lay broken on the ground. Wheatley skittered forward and started poking them.

"Are they...are they really _dead_?" Wheatley asked with a slight croak.

Lydia stared down at him. "Come on we don't have time for that."

Wheatley shook his sphere and rushed towards the pair. "Right! I'm-I'm coming! Don't leave without me!"

Lydia was the first to open the larger wooden doors as she pressed through, dust falling from the top. Doug was next, as Wheatley held on to his friend. Lydia kept vigilant and very aware as they stared down a long, dark and cold corridor. There were lit torches on the walls that were distanced as few and far in between, belittling Doug slightly as he examined the stone walls. Lydia readied her blade carefully and gripped it with both hands. Doug's hunch was setting the stage for expectations that wrenched his stomach like it normally would. Those androids were easy, but he detected a sort of mark on them that bellowed him with familiarity, a kind of connection to the bots. He shook his head as he ran his fingers and hands over the walls, looking for any clues to what they were going to find within.

He'd read up on certain forts having dozens of rooms and hallways that were designed to slow down raids on enemies who dare to invade. They'd been around for many years, occupied by many a group, whether it were Imperials, Stormcloaks, bandits or even ancients and creatures. They were sturdier enough to survive the ones who built them in the first place. It held a chill in the air, due Doug guessing insulation was most likely never a priority or even thought of, as the place was made of nothing but wood and stone. It was held up by many pillars and planks.

Lydia stopped them as they heard whispers echoing off the walls. She ordered them to be quiet as she crept closer to a light that was shining from the left. The pulsating fades meant there would be people huddling around a fire. Wheatley was holding his hands together, trying so hard not to make a sound. Doug's heart rate increased as the whispers got louder upon getting closer. Lydia wasn't phased one bit, intent on dealing with this few brutes at a time. She went into a crouch and looked back and raised one hand to tell the others to stop walking. The housecarl looked towards the floor when had reached the corner. Doug knew she was listening in to the conversation in the next room. It was full of drunken bandits rambling on about a secret door.

"How many we got this time?" Asked one with a thick Nordic accent, following by the sound of slurping.

"About seven." Answered one, his voice slurred. "There were a few more, but they weren't strong enough to get passed the third room."

The first one laughed. "Ahhh such disgusting and stupid creatures. All of them. Can they really think straight when they're in that bag of stinking fur?"

Another man went into the discussion, her voice just as drunk as the second, only a little more older.

"Of course not...their damn instincts get in the way. But we take them out of towns, out of Skyrim, and not only does it appease our God, but it makes everyone feel a bit safer. Don't you all agree?"

A series of approved grumbles filled the room. Lydia browed and faced Doug who had crept closer in the meanwhile.

"What are they talking about?" He whispered to her.

Lydia frowned. "I don't think you want to know..."

They both listened in further as Doug had a look around. There were five men in the room of variable ages, and as they suspected, sitting around a campfire drinking Mead. There was a shelf full of items behind a bench, but a small gap leading to fire itself could risk them getting seen. Lydia had her eyes darted on the intoxicated group. She waved Doug to go first. He stayed low as he skittered over behind the shelf. Lydia looked back at Wheatley and nudged her head to get him to join Doug. Wheatley nodded, mimicking Dougs movements and trickling his tricky feet to slide against the man, almost bumping some pots off the shelf. Doug glared at Wheatley and froze for a moment, his paranoia checking out if the bandits had heard anything. Doug breathed normally once the laughing resumed. Lydia easily nestled her way on the other side of Doug, as all three peered through the tiny spaces on the shelf.

"Heh...one of the dogs had to be muzzled." Said the first bandit, pale skin indicated Nordic descent and long blonde hair. He was playing with his shiny, silver sword, poking the of it with his finger.

"Her bark is worse than her bite."

The second bandit laughed. Lydia examined he was of Imperial descent and held a greatsword down into the ground.

"Oohh that one...yeah I checked her out earlier. Fine lookin' piece. Shame she had to be a mutt."

Lydia glared at them from afar. It caught Doug's eye, bringing forth the identity question once again. Lydia grabbed hold of Doug's shoulders and forced him down.

"There are five of them. Do you have any spells in particular that would help us at this point in time?" She whispered closely, making Doug nervous.

"Um..." He started, trying to think. He recalled the time the Dragonborn had taken him out with her to the tomb underneath Azura's Shrine. She'd used a trick on them to make them turn against each other. From a brief recollection, she had used an gem and made them fight over it. Doug had no such items on hand, but then perked up once he'd found another for it. The Fury Spell. "I may have an idea."

Lydia responded and laid back against the wall of the bench and keeping an eye on the questioning Wheatley. Doug was obviously doubting himself for even proposing it but it was the only possible way. There were others, but this would leave them likely unhurt, with understanding circumstances looming. The scientist took a deep breath, his once lowered glance looking at the ghostly wolf reappearing in the corner. It took him a while before he had moved again, only for the wolf to bring the attention back to to bandits as he ran to them and dissipated into thin air. He exhaled again and knelt over on his hands and knees. The spell wasn't hard to remember as he crawled over the side. They were in sitting in a way that, Doug could keep low in, sticking to the shadows.

"Using my tools..." He murmured to himself.

With the flick of his wrist, a unique glow emitted, with darting long specks of a light pink-orange colour circling around his hand, the rest shooting off in the same way. Lowering himself a bit more, he poked his tongue out as he stretched his arm forward, aiming for the Nord sitting in front of him, his back tuned. He cast the spell quickly before rushing back behind the shelf.

He nestled himself in between Wheatley and Lydia and watched as chaos ensured.

* * *

Within five minutes, everyone in that room was dead.

Wheatley couldn't stand the screaming as Lydia had taken them back a little bit, seeing a doorway to a cupboard and hid themselves in there once it went out of hand, regardless of how Doug was feeling slightly claustrophobic about it. Chairs had flown and snapped into millions of pieces whilst the three were in hiding. Doug was anxious as the bandits spouted racial taunts between the Imperial and the Nords. A lot of clashing of silver and metal shafted sharp noises and yelps of agony filled the air. Doug was the first to open the door, albeit at his own pace. He was anticipating a rogue survivor as the door creaked, the man almost freaking out. Eventually he crawled out of the cupboard and clamped his hands on the side of the bench, one by one, before lifting his head in a precise manner, just so his eyes could see over it. No such movement thus far, from his observational point of view. He looked over to Wheatley and Lydia and nodded that it was clear, before crawling around the side of the shelf, eyes widened at the disaster he'd caused.

The fire was just a small smolder, with the entire room a complete mess. Bodies lay everywhere, the sight of blood making Doug almost faint. He looked at his fingers and realized he was shaking. Licking his lips, he pushed himself off the floor. At a greater clarity, he could now confirm all five were dead. He was speechless. He jumped when Lydia placed a hand on his shoulder, then calmed when he realized it was just her. The entire room was lifeless, dust settling in from the lethal brawl. It had astounded Wheatley who shook his head.

"That's some nasty stuff...even I, well, no...that was going to be a **bad** comparison. But back on topic, at least we can proceed with ourselves yeah?" Wheatley inquired.

Doug walked forward to each body and checked their pulses. Nothing. It was...bizarre. He looked at his hands. He did this. A simple spell had resulted in the deaths of five people. Indirect deaths. He felt guilt at the pit of his stomach and wondered if this was still a good idea.

"Yeah Wheatley's right." Lydia replied. "Let's keep moving. There's a lot of ground to cover."

Lydia lead the way down into the next darkened path way. It was odd, since there were no torches leading down it at all. Wheatley pushed in front, offering his torch. Doug was still in deep thought about his actions, his head low. He noticed he was trailing behind Lydia and Wheatley, but he preferred it that way. He could help rid of the androids...because they resembled everything else but humans in metaphorical spirit. But with actual humans with blood and a container for a soul, he came to regret it.

_You know she won't be happy if she perishes under your cowardice. You have impressed her, by logic and not by battle. She will be more impressed if you managed to take the chance in rescuing her, therefore earning her respect in both fields._

The Cube distant words reached his hallucinating ears as Wheatley continued to lead them down the dark corridors. His ears flicked as Wheatley screamed, seeing the light disappear suddenly. Doug gathered the courage and pushed past Lydia to see Wheatley hanging on to the side. His optic was all over the place, directing the flashlight in different directions, allowing Doug to see that he had fallen through a trap door in the ground, looking about two meters long from where they were. Doug leaned down and grabbed hold of Wheatley's hand, dragging him out of the hole and holding onto the core who needed time to recuperate. Mentally, recuperate of course.

"Oh- _oh_ God I thought I was a _goner_!" Wheatley exasperated. "But lucky my **fast** instinct and moves saved me from falling into that _deadly_ pit..."

Doug stifled a laugh there, before noticing Wheatley's trailing off and looking distant. Lydia examined how they could get around it. She sheathed her sword, then slid herself against the wall and shuffled herself across to the other side. Doug gave Wheatley concerned looks as the Core got on to his feet and dusted his hands.

"Uh...um...where was I? Oh...love, how did you-how did you get over there?" He asked, astounded.

Lydia smiled. "I walked. Just lean your...back against the wall and slide your feet. I hope your balance is well adjusted this time."

Wheatley laughed nervously as he peered into the pit. "Uh...yeah..." He said, not really keen.

"It's cinch. Not a problem at all. I pass through things like this _all_ the time..."

Doug felt a smile perk up as Wheatley's expression displayed a certain type of sheepishness that Doug could recognize. He always did that, even back at Aperture. He watched as the core hesitantly touch the back wall. There had to be at a thirty centimeter length between the wall and the edge of the pit itself, Wheatley's feet fell far over, but given the metal nature of them, he could keep his balance and not have to worry about accidentally grasping his toes over, unlike normal humans. Wheatley shivered in his frame, muttering incoherently, his hand pressing against the stone wall. His right foot moved, then his left foot moved sideways. The ATLAS Frame made it awkward, giving it's shape and bulk, with Doug growing concerned his back ports getting scraped up by the back-wall stone work, since it was unshapely and uneven.

Wheatley jumped off on the other side, leaning over and resting his hands on his knee joints.

"Oh...oh _god_. _Please_ don't make do that **again**. I know I was good but-but it was _terrifying_. Did you know at any given moment I could have actually fell back in there. And I don't want to _know_ what is at the bottom. The Abyss maybe...or what your people call, Oblivion or something. Sounds mad...sounds absolutely mad, insane and probably **not** recommended for people like me."

Lydia rolled her eyes and focused on Doug, who was standing there before the pit and staring down at it blankly.

"Douggy come in! Yes...it's a **pit**. It's...it's _dark_...and will most likely _kill_ you if you're not careful. So slide across the side like I just did. It's gonna be fine!" The Core said, dancing around in his success.

Doug shouldn't even be listening to Wheatley's advice, but for once, he was right. Another deep breath pushed to the wall as he began to shuffle along. He didn't want to stare down into the darkness below, but he cursed himself as he did so, hearing screams down there. They weren't real, as Doug enough experience to note the difference of certain hallucinations, but occasionally, his mind would have difficulty in doing so.

He instead focused on his breathing, rather than the noises from bellow. However, the screams warped and changed into a voice that almost made him fall in the pit.

_Oh it's you..._

His heart pumped harder as he slipped. He shut his eyes, awaiting his accepted death. Or so he would have if it weren't the well-timed grip of Wheatley literal iron grip.

"Woops...almost fell down there mate...oh man...you should have seen the look on your _face_. You were-you were so scared! I'm not laughing, but... _wow_...that has got to be the most quick evening of the odds I've ever had to do. You save me, I save you moment's later...I don't know if that's ever been done...in the-in the movies."

Doug grumbled as Lydia came in to help, by snatching his other arm and pulling him out. They helped Doug back up on his feet as he needed to take another breath.

"Thanks, I don't have the best equilibrium...most of the time." He said, expressing his smile as a good sign.

* * *

They kept walking down the same corridor, lingering in the dark. Lydia ordered Wheatley to keep an exclusive look out for traps. Wheatley obliged and scanned absolutely everywhere they went, halting the search slightly, much to Doug's dismay. But he soon got an inkling that something wasn't quite right in this place. The androids. Their presence jump started his suspicions about the Silver-Hand who was supposedly here according to the Dragonborns diary.

They'd come across a massive steel door. Lydia banged on it with the back of her fist. It sounded pretty thick and alien to the housecarl as she stared at it with confusion. A red light caught her eye on the right side of it, with a series of buttons and shiny things.

"Is this entire thing made of metal? I give them credit for the unusual craftsmanship but there looks like there's magic involved." Lydia commented.

Doug stood next to her and gave the thing a closer look.

"That's a keypad." He revealed. "You type in a sequence of numbers which is called a password or a pass-code. To open this door, you must type in that sequence which, by the looks of this, needs four numbers."

Lydia stood back, her hands on her hips. "So magic?"

Doug sighed. He kept forgetting that the some concepts just hadn't been brought over just yet.

"Yes... _magic_."

Wheatley looked at him with lowered shutters. "Umm..I could... **hack** my in... _you know_. Hacking is my specialty, after all I learned from the master...can-can I give it a try?"

Doug looked around. A single torch lit the area, shifting against the time values that while the door was modern, the technology around it, was not. Ignoring that he thumbed his beard, remembering the last time Wheatley was...hacking. And if his experience with security was anything, they had to be extra cautious with this type of technology in front of them.

He ran his fingers through his hair. Nothing seemed to shout dangerous or explosive, No cables or cords tucked away, leading to some weapon in the middle of nowhere going to outright shoot them to death. Inhale, exhale. Going back to the keypad, Doug squinted at the numbers carefully.

"There's a trick with these though. If you can find which numbers are pressed often, you shrink down the list of possible combinations."

Lydia lifted her chin as she kept an eye on the door. "Can't we blow this thing up somehow? Without caving the roof in of course." She suggested.

Doug shook his head. "No...it's too thick. And it might trigger off something we can't see."

He turned to Wheatley. "Do you still have that ultra-violet light mode installed?"

Wheatley blinked. "Uh...ultra-violet light...lemme check...it _may_ or may not have been broken during my...uh... _previous_ adventures...can't be a hundred percent sure on that." He said, tinkering with his core.

"Ah _hah_!" He exclaimed happily.

Doug smiled. "You find it?"

"Um...no..." Wheatley said, still upbeat. He pulled out something from behind him, a long white cord with a near semi circle end. "But-but I found that...USB Cable. Which I feel, will be _extraordinarily_ important down the track."

Doug face palmed. "Okay, that's good and all, but we really need to find that ultra-...hang on..."

He said. Wheatley narrowed his optic.

"What is it?" He asked, curious.

Doug grinned. "Give me your cable. If this has a USB port installed, then I might be able...ahaha Doug you devil you."

Wheatley was weirded out by Doug's strange encouragement to himself, but was...confused and happy nonetheless. He watched as Doug started tinkering with a removable steel plate. He pulled a screwdriver out of his pouch and began unscrewing them. Not long after, he removed the plate, revealing another series of differently coloured cables and motherboards within. He grabbed the usb cord from Wheatley's hand and worked his fingers through the cables to find the port. He rimmed his finger over it, confirming it's location and jammed the cable in.

"Oh is that all...oh that's _nothin_ ', that's... **OHGODOHGOD**...what...what is that? Douggy...I'm...seeing things.. **.AHHH IT'S FLASHING EVERYWHERE! I-I CAN'T SEE...TOO MANY NUMBERS**! Ones and zeros Douggy! Ones and zeros! Oh _god_...this better not be reboot mode you're messin' with!"

Doug shook his head and kept it cool under Wheatley's rambling.  
"You might be communicating with the keypads mainframe. It's simple programming." Doug assured. "I guess that they would need to resort to the primitive software since not many people around here would know how to use it."

"Oh that's very-that's very comforting...still doesn't _bloody_ explain these pop ups...you know what, not a _single_ one is for those Viagra ads. Just ones and zeros."

Doug grumbled, then looked at Lydia who had her arms crossed and was staring at them with justified confusion. Doug gave her a sheepish grin.

"Uh...don't bother asking what that is either. You can ask all questions once we get the Dragonborn out." He said, desperate for her to forget what Wheatley just said.

"I wasn't going to. My Thane was right after all. You people have your own language or dialect or something." She said sarcastically. "I'm willing to wait for a few more minutes. I'm hoping by that time you've both hacked your way through this. Depending on what Hack means in your...area of origin."

Doug bit his lip. "It's a complicated process I assure you."

Lydia shrugged. "Yeah...I can imagine. I'm going to stand post until you two have finished."

Doug nodded. "Noted."

He turned back to Wheatley. Whom had to keep sorting through code in his network. Doug rubbed his chin as he managed to guide Wheatley to shuffle the window of code to once side of his visage and roll up the search option for the Ultra Violet light. Suddenly a dark blue light took over the normal flashlight. Some partial finger prints ended up turning up on several of the numbers. Namely, 1, 4, 8 and 9. He continued to guide Wheatley through the programs, essentially telling him to sort out the password with those numbers as Doug typed them in. Eventually, the number popped up on Wheatley's screen.

"Hey, you weren't far off. Eight and Nine just had to be reversed...hah! Best hacking done, by _yours_ sincerely."

Doug smiled. "Yeah you did..you did good."

He pulled the cord back as the red light above the keypad turned green, allowing Wheatley to slot it back into himself. He switched the ultra violet off and stood back with Lydia and Doug as the door opened before them.

Inside was another long corridor. This time, the walls were large pure black tiles that Doug and Wheatley gaped at and to be expected, puzzled Lydia. This was getting far too familiar, driving a sweat of anxiety down Doug's brow. Lydia reacted by pulling out her sword. She had felt like she had gone into another realm.

"What...what is this?" She muttered, keeping her eyes peeled.

Wheatley and Doug glanced at one another. "If this is...is this is what I think it is..." Wheatley said, voice dripping with pure dread.

Doug bit his lip. "I'm not certain, but hunch is leaning towards the possibility."

Wheatley gulped. "She's been taken here. Oh god...you don't...you don't think that."

A shiver went down Doug's spine at where Wheatley was getting towards. He did not like the looks of this. Lydia barged on through between them, demanding answers.

"Okay, I let the language or dialect slide but this? You two aren't telling me something and on the life of my Thane I demand you both explain this to me." She ordered, her eyes not as threatening as the Dragonborns, but it was etching very close to it.

Doug rubbed his head. He received flash backs to numerous explosions, rewinding back to where he had been once he was rudely awoken somewhere in the facility. A simple trailing blur as he saw a yellow light wandering around his peripheral vision, then staring straight down at him. It wasn't clear what he saw as his memory was currently failing him. But that yellow light. It ran laps through his anxious mind.

He snapped out of the flashback when Lydia and Wheatley were looking at him.

"What is it Douggy?" Wheatley asked, concerned.

Doug rubbed his forehead as it ached. "It's nothing...come on..."

They walked down the hall way as fluorescent lights lined the roof, lighting their way down a flight of stairs. Wheatley gulped as he looked at the the floor, looking at the robotic arms that held the stairs up. He didn't feel good about this. Not at all. They turned a corner with Doug freezing at the rotund shaped sliding door in front of them. Wheatley ran forward to read the text on the wall. He called Doug over to help him read it.

"Hey what's this?" Wheatley asked.

Doug squinted at the factory text. "Observation Room." Doug read out aloud.

Lydia came at them from behind, hearing their chatter and reading the text.

"Observation Room? What would they be observing from within there?" She asked.

Doug rubbed his neck. He had hoped and prayed that he would never ever walk within their walls again. But this was too coincidental to be similar. He recalled his own words back at Gildekin. He had planned this, but had forgotten about it when they encountered Lydia at the front gates. All his plans were jumbled. His past words began to haunt him. He didn't hack his way in with the term he'd hoped, but with the locked door, new options opened up. It was likely his skills would in fact, come in handy after all. All those random, pointless equations and variables could suddenly come useful to them. Why he had assumed so was anyones guess. This one unintended hunch he was not looking forward to following.

Doug frowned. "Test Subjects." He said, his breath weary with the term.

It looked like half his earlier fears were proven forward, and the other half unfounded. Once more, he had stepped into the lions den.


End file.
